Adaptation 3
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: Claire and Chris are doing fine on their own, but Claire is still infected and worried about what's happening to her body. When the only person who has answers is her enemy, life becomes increasingly complicated. Part 3, sequel to Infection.
1. Chapter 1: Adaptation

Here is the beginning of Part III: Adaptation. I'll update as quickly as I can and while I'm on my writing spree this month. As always, I love reviews. They make me want to write more for everyone to enjoy. So…um…yeah…Enjoy! Reminder: I own nothing.

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Chapter 30: Adaptation

Red hair fluttered about the woman's face as a light breeze blew through the courtyard of the small apartment complex. Her lips parted into a gentle smile as she stepped further into the sunlight, and her eyes matched the brilliant azure sky overhead. It was late spring, May, five months after a captivity that no one would guess at judging by her face. Claire Redfield was sipping from a tall glass of iced coke and walking barefoot along the stone pathway leading across the small, grassy enclosure. She and Chris were sharing an apartment on the second floor. No doubt he could see her from the small balcony where she had left him.

"Claire, come play with me!" a short little girl called. She skipped across the grass in a red dress and latched onto Claire's hands, tugging enthusiastically. Claire had become a favorite among the children in these apartments, but what child could resist someone who handed out mini chocolates? "Come play!"

"Not today, Missy," Claire laughed. "I have work to do soon, but you can sit with me in the grass for a while."

"Ok." They sat and Claire pointed out animal shapes in the clouds overhead. The little girl giggled. Claire had become more acutely aware of wanting a family someday with so many children around. But with Umbrella and who-knew-who else after her and Chris, the realization of those dreams was remote. Maybe it wouldn't happen in this lifetime. Claire accepted that and fulfilled the desire by enjoying other people's kids. She wasn't ready to settle down anyway—no way, not anti-Umbrella Claire.

"Where did your friends go?" the child asked. "Becky was funny." Claire sighed. That had been two months ago. There had been little to no action on their radar for weeks, and the anti-Umbrella group had inevitably separated with other interests and projects to attend. Leon had been finagled into doing something with the government; Rebecca had gotten wind of a possibly lead on Billy Coen; and Jill was attending to an ailing relative. Of course, they were in contact, especially with Jill. Chris called her frequently, and Claire knew that the woman would return when she could. Perhaps a break was a good idea, for they weren't accomplishing anything lately. She and Chris had their ears and eyes open but were having difficulty getting anywhere. It had been a quiet several months.

"They're busy," Claire answered. "Adult stuff."

"Claire!" Chris called from the balcony. "Come take a look at this!" Claire excused herself and hurried up the stairs to their small apartment. She had been earning cash as a waitress in a nearby shop and kept them housed for the time being. Chris was reclining beside a large fan and looking at his computer. "This just came in." He moved the computer so that Claire could see the screen. It was an e-mail detailing a suspicious, unmarked, and very small shipment of fragile chemicals to a remote location in central Russia.

"Where'd you get this from?" Claire asked.

"Oh, a friend," Chris shrugged with a boyish smile. "He marks and forwards me anything that might be related to bio-weapon research. And," Chris said, "there's a small town near there—only about four hundred people, and there have been strange reports of monsters from neighboring people that got to close to this place. No one's gone to the town for days."

"Shall we check it out?" Claire grinned.

"You bet. We have nothing else to do around here. Things have been way to quiet, if you ask me."

"You always assume that no news is bad news," Claire playfully chided as she got herself another soda. She wiped sweat from her brow. The apartment was cheap, and that happened to mean no air conditioning.

"It usually is with bio-weapons," Chris answered. He watched Claire move about the kitchen with her energetic confidence. She had returned to herself a week after being rescued from Wesker, but she still didn't talk about it. She had made only one comment, and it left Chris baffled. It had been soon after their tiny Christmas celebration, and Claire was making hot chocolate for everyone. He had found her in the kitchen staring blankly into her cup with a strange emotion trapped in her eyes. He naturally asked what was bothering her. _Nothing. It reminds me of him_. Chris didn't need to ask who the "him" was, but he couldn't fathom what the connection was.

"You sure you're up for this, kiddo?" Chris jokingly asked. Claire knew better than to think it was only a jest. Chris liked to mask seriousness with humor.

"You mean, do I want to be involved with biohazards after a tyrant held me captive and exposed me to viruses?" she asked. Chris muttered something incoherent. "Chris, we've been through this. Wesker could have bested any of us. It's not like I was just weaker than you. I'm ready for action again. In fact, there's nothing else I want to do right now. Ask me again, and I'll break your nose." Chris smiled and stretched.

"Suit yourself. I'd like to send you back to college, personally."

"We've been through that too, and the answer's no. I'm much more useful here." Not lately, she admitted, but every week couldn't be fast paced. "I'll go back when the t-virus and its counterparts are gone for good." That could be a lifetime, Claire realized, or until the masterminds were executed. "And are you going to Russia on your own if I back out?" she teased. "Good luck!" Chris's phone began ringing and he leapt from his seat. Claire laughed as he lunged for it.

"Jill? Hello beautiful." Claire stepped out onto the balcony and closed the door to give them some privacy. The sun was beginning to set, and she loved this time of day. Chris and Jill were discussing the trip to Russia. To another person, the sound from inside would have been muffled, but Claire heard it clearly. She was sure that her ears hadn't been this acute before. She could hear softer noises—sometimes other people's pulses if she concentrated—and she often used the ability to eavesdrop. It would have been an enjoyable gain had it not been connected to a virus, which she was certain was the source of it.

Besides that, no other conditions had manifested, although she checked her body every single time she went for a bath or shower. There was hardly a day that went by where she did not think about being infected. Sure, she looked normal, but, when she got angry, she knew that she had to be careful. She had been furious when she learned that Missy's stepfather sometimes hit her when drunk. She had been holding a glass in her hand, and it snapped when her temper rose. Since then she had kept a constant vigil on her actions when emotional. It was like when she fought Wesker's test subject, and she still had no control when that strength arrived or left. She wished it into nonexistence, but that didn't change reality.

"_Chris! Such a dirty mind."_ Jill's voice came through the door. Claire choked on her smile and ran a hand through her hair. Keeping track of Umbrella's bio-weapons was becoming more difficult due to the small groups that bought them. There were isolated incidents that should have had international organizations worried, but most people didn't realize the extent of the BOWs' danger or potential to destroy whole cities. To most people, monsters were still fictional.

_You'll be a BOW one day_, her mind reminded. _Stop thinking about it!_ She was not a BOW. She was not some type of killing machine or freak. She was Claire Redfield, and she would stay that way. Not for the first time, she wondered how Wesker would find her, as he claimed he would if she had problems with the virus. He had let her go so that someone or something else would kill her. He was keeping his hands clean of that, and Claire liked to think that it was because he couldn't coldly murder someone who had treated him as she had, but she knew better than to think in black or white when it came to Wesker.

"He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf," she recited. She had circled that in her Shakespeare collection and written Wesker's name beside it. She wondered if he had noticed. She could picture him, in all his smugness and control, placing her book back in the library for safekeeping. He would be in trim, black clothing from head to foot, with sunglasses, and perfect blond hair. Not for the first time, she remembered what it had felt like when he held her face; but she never let herself recall the kisses. Those she shunned from her mind like a disease. They were the sole property of Claire the captive, and it was too dangerous and disturbing to think about kissing Albert Wesker now that they were most clearly enemies again.

She shook her head. Damn that man had smoothly snuck those kisses into the scene right when she was at her most vulnerable. He knew what he was doing with his cool, calculating understanding of people. He was a deadly man, deadly with his manipulative abilities. Her life would be easier if she never saw him again, but it wasn't only because she needed to focus on defeating him and because she wanted to be loyal to her friends; she didn't want to be in a position to shoot or otherwise maim him. If he had to die, she didn't want to be directly involved.

She could hear Chris approaching.

"Claire, Jill says hello," he announced. "Here, she wants to talk." Chris handed her the phone and went back inside.

"Hi, Jill," Claire warmly greeted. She could not be happier that Chris and Jill were together. Jill was the exact type of person she would want for him, and she was fond of the woman. "How's it going?"

"Oh, you know, going about my business but sleeping with a weapon. How are you? Chris hasn't been pressuring you to drop out of the Russian mission, has he?" Claire smiled and looked to see if Chris was nearby.

"Only a little, and he hasn't mentioned Wesker yet, so that's a good sign."

"Yeah…" Jill agreed. "He still talks about your captivity. He's afraid that Wesker did horrible, tortuous things to you and that you're carrying that burden alone. You know he wants to help, Claire."

"I know, but he can't. He wouldn't understand, Jill. I don't think any of you would. I'd rather just keep the memories as my own."

"Seeing in grey?" Jill asked gently. Claire loved the tact this woman could express. She was tough and assertive and understanding all at the same time.

"Yeah."

"I have no idea what happened, and I probably wouldn't understand either, but Chris is damned confused sometimes. He expects you to hate Wesker and speak his name with venom, like him, but you don't, and he doesn't get that." Background noise distracted Jill for a moment. "What? Oh, right. I've got to go, Claire. Tell Chris that I love him and will be back when I can. And take care of yourself!"

"Bye." The phone went dead and Claire walked back inside. Chris was fiddling with his handgun. "So when are we leaving?" Claire asked. She sincerely wanted to do some damage to the viral cause.

"Tomorrow, sis. I already booked our flight." Claire began gathering her supplies and loading them into a large backpack. She packed protein bars, bottled water, ammo, extra jackets, and knives—anything that she thought might be useful. The backpack slouched against her bedroom door as she went for the most vital items. First was her pink jacket—her trademark. Nothing put her in the mood to shoot zombies like slipping it on. Wearing that jacket meant maintaining the sarcastic, tough-girl image associated with it. Next, she removed a thin metal necklace from a box beside her bed. It was a dog tag.

She ran a finger over its surface and read the inscription:

_Jasper_

_Nathaniel, M. O POS_

_123-57-9001_

_Christian _

She had notified the relatives of their son's death in an anonymous letter. At least one family swept away by Umbrella would have some closure. She slipped the tag around her neck and tucked it underneath her shirt. She wore it as a reminder of what she risked and what kind of mercy she could expect to receive if she should ever surrender. She hoisted her rifle and sat on the bed. It was going to be a long night of waiting.


	2. Chapter 2: Testing Grounds

Chapter 31: Testing Grounds

The vehicle hit a hard bump and smacked Claire's head against the window.

"Damn it, Chris!" she complained.

"I can't do anything about the roads," he retorted. "Shit, these people need to get pavement." They had been driving into the countryside for four hours, and Claire was getting sick of being stuck in the car. The radio wasn't working, and there was nothing interesting to look at. The landscape was flat but for lingering groups of trees and the occasional, small hill. They hadn't seen a single person or town in the last two hours. "Who would want to live out here?" Chris asked.

"People who don't drive," Claire sighed. "My ass hates me right now." Another bump followed by a ditch sent a jolt up her backside. "Please tell me that we're almost there."

"Yeah, it's just ahead, according to the GPS. It's about a mile away. Let's pull into those trees by that hill and walk from here," he suggested. "No one will see our vehicle, and I don't want to drive into a town that no one's left in a week and a half now." They parked the car and made sure it was invisible from the road before slipping into jackets and hoisting smaller backpacks filled with survival supplies. Their trek began.

"It's too quiet," Claire commented with worry. "Why aren't there any people? If it was an outbreak, wouldn't some of them have escaped?" It didn't make sense to her as they neared the town with its dull shades of brown and gray. The dreary quality of the place did not make Claire eager to enter it. They halted and ducked behind bushes as Chris examined the scene through binoculars.

"I don't see anyone," he stated. The town was literally deserted in appearance, with some of the doors on the houses hanging open. "Wait!" He had located a body lying slumped against a wall, but it was impossible to tell how the man had died from here. There was nothing else to see. It was a simply town, with a handful of cars and bikes standing around and a few shops like a grocery store. Nothing except a steeple stood more than two stories high, and most buildings were one story. Chris scanned the dead environment with consternation.

"I don't like this, Chris. This doesn't look like an outbreak. Where are the signs of panic and death?"

"Come on. Let's get a closer look, but stick close. We're here to investigate and kill any undead that bother us, not take on an entire village. If it starts getting ugly, we hightail it back to the car and report to the authorities, okay?"

"No need to tell me." They moved forward and crept between the houses. The eeriness of the lifeless place was accentuated by the occasional creak of a store sign or shutter from the chilly wind. Neither of them spoke for fear of drawing attention to themselves. Speech almost seemed forbidden amidst the oppressive air. Thankfully the copious amounts of mud lining the pathways between houses muffled their boots.

Claire tapped Chris on the shoulder and pointed to a vehicle sitting nearby. They moved closer, for a body was slumped over the wheel. Whoever he was, he had been shot execution style in the back of the head. Claire removed his wallet and flipped it open. _John Jacobs_. Definitely not Russian. They moved onward, and Claire got jumpier by the minute. The place was giving her the creeps. Action would have been preferable to uncertainty.

They located a strange, white tent near the center of the town. A sign in both English and Russian read: Vaccination Clinic. None of the products were labeled, and a dead woman in a white jacket lay behind one of the tables. She had shot herself. The gun was still in her hands.

"What the hell happened here?" Claire asked. "You don't think that…"

"That someone intentionally infected these people as a test run?" Chris finished. It made both of them sick to think about. "Sounds to me like something people would do. Sick sons of bitches." Claire silently agreed as they probed onward for more evidence. If they could just find something with a label they could perhaps trace the people responsible, but there weren't even any zombies.

They came across a large church—the biggest building in the vicinity, and Claire paused. She could hear something, inside the building. Chris stopped in his tracks and curiously watched her expression. She was concentrating, but on what he couldn't tell.

"Do you hear that?" Claire asked.

"Hear what?" Claire took a step toward the church with its closed doors and white walls. An antique crucifixion carving hung over the door, and Christ's sorrowful expression seemed focused on the two trespassers. Claire heard a peculiar, sluggish sound, like something breathing heavily through wet cloth. She raised her gun.

"Something's in there," she whispered. Chris had his own gun ready to fire as they approached the doors. They stood either side of the wide entranceway as Chris carefully turned the knob and peaked through a crack. His eyes widened. He motioned for Claire to take a look. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a church full of people. Wait. Her heart stopped. Bodies were sitting slightly slumped forward in the pews, and several corpses lined the aisles. The town had either gathered to die together, or they had been caught during the service. Even the pastor remained where he might have been preaching; his body flopped over the pulpit above a dark, brown stain on its wood.

Claire noticed a body in a white lab coat. Maybe there was an ID that they could trace to an employer. She and Chris carefully stepped inside and moved among the pews. Claire could still hear the strange, sucking sound but could not locate it. Chris was hunched over the scientist and searching the body while Claire briefly admired the beautiful, aged woodcarvings decorating the pews. A massacre in a sacred place like this somehow seemed to amplify the gore. She could imagine everyone praying and hugging their children, trying to protect them. Her hand unconsciously gripped the dog tags about her throat. She hated the unjustness of this entire mess.

The sucking sound got louder as she neared a small, side room leading from the sanctuary. She lifted her gun and used her foot to nudge the door open. Where had she heard this noise before? She remembered as she faced the scene before her. A former human knelt over the body of a fallen woman, sucking on a hole in her chest. Where arms had once been were gray tentacles, and a strange film of slime coated parts of its body. Claire wordlessly lifted her gun and fired into the things chest and head. It slumped forward, dead.

"Claire!" Chris called in a concerned whisper. Claire hurried back to him.

"Wraiths," she urgently responded. "And they can climb walls. Let's go." Chris grabbed the dead woman's identification and they rushed for the door. Claire could hear more sucking sounds, but in larger numbers. Her gunshots had undoubtedly alerted any others that were lurking in the area. As they reached the door, Chris glanced at the stairs leading downstairs to the church's basement. Gray, decaying bodies with tentacles were literally clamoring over each other in an attempt to get upstairs. They moved like one, giant, slick mass.

"To the car!" Chris yelled. They rushed through streets that were very quickly coming to life with the noise. Several creatures, and not all of them Wraiths, were exiting buildings and lurching about in search of food. Claire and Chris ran as fast as they could and fired into the creatures that tried to block their path. They entered a street where the houses were more tightly packed and maintained their pace. Just beyond this street lay the open fields leading to the car. They only needed to go another mile, and the creatures couldn't move very quickly. It seemed that they would make it.

They emerged into an open area before the fields and saw vehicles approaching on the horizon—two large convoy trucks and several jeeps. One truck was already stopped, and armed men poured out of the back and began moving toward the town. They wore gas masks and sealed, black suits, which meant that they were aware of the biohazard nature of the destruction here. They did not even stop to consider whether or not Chris and Claire were infected; they fired several rounds toward the two, who were forced back into the enclosed street. They were lucky that the cleanup soldiers had not been in close firing range.

"Chris, look!" Wraiths were approaching them from the opposite end of the street, effectively pinning them between two enemies.

"Damn it!" Chris cursed. "Here, let's take the a shortcut!"

"What shortcut?" Claire demanded as he ran inside a building. Their gunfire flashed in the darkness of the building's interior as they shot two zombies and made to exit out the backdoor. Chris was already outside and Claire was about to join him when a thundering crack broke over her head. She heard the noise before she had time to react. She wasn't even aware of what had happened as a cloud of dry plaster and debris blew up in her face. She coughed and stumbled backward as she peered through the settling dirt. Damn, the ceiling had fallen through. She looked at the gaping hole above her and then at the collection of debris at her feet. Something underneath the pile of boards and plaster chunks pushed upward and a bloody arm emerged to claw at the boards.

"Claire!" Chris yelled, but she could no longer see him; the doorway had collapsed and been blocked by the cave-in. Claire noted a side door and made a run for it as the debris pile clattered apart with a violent upward thrust from what lay beneath it. Good lord, it was some type of muscular, bleeding corpse with spikes protruding from its back, and its yellow eyes fastened on its fleeing prey. "Claire!"

"Meet me at the car!" Claire yelled and fired into the monster. The bullets made tiny rivulets of dark blood run across its body, but little else. The thing grunted and jerked but still charged at her. Claire could see that it was a losing battle and was already running to another door. She emerged in an alley and ran along its length for the main street where Chris was. The thing behind her was having difficulties forcing its bulk through the doorway, buying her time.

The creature ripped part of the doorway down with a final push of power and howled in rage. Claire was almost at the end of the alley when the sound sent shivers down her spine. She would have made it out onto the street and Chris had a long tentacle not burst from the pursuing creature's shoulder and shot at her.

"Ah!" Claire gasped and stopped running. She looked down at her chest in shock. A greenish, blood coated appendage protruded from her body right beneath the left breast. Her mind went blank. She didn't even scream. She stared uncomprehendingly as the thing ripped backward out of her body. Her knees shook and she fell onto them to support herself with her hands. Blood seeped down the front of her pink jacket and Claire could only gasp for air through her wide-open mouth.

The tentacle returned and thrust through her lower abdomen. As it withdrew, taking some flesh with it, the pain hit Claire full force and she screamed. Her body rolled sideways and she watched the creature that had mortally wounded her approach. It seemed to no longer see her as it lurched onward down the alley. Claire shook and choked on the blood filling her throat. Her blue eyes stared distantly at the sky above her, the same sky that still provided a mirror image of her bright, blue iris.

She tried to keep conscious, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She imagined Chris waiting for her at the vehicle and several tears slid over her face to mingle with the blood. As her eyes slid shut, her mouth began forming an unfinished apology to him. _I'm sorry, Chris_. Her body lay unattended in the alley as the cleanup crew began shooting nearby wraiths. No one paid attention to one broken woman bleeding into the gutter. If they had been more attentive, they would have noticed the body's fingers begin twitching after several minutes. Amid the carnage, Claire's eyes opened to the world again.


	3. Chapter 3: Revival

Chapter 32: Revival

Claire's first reaction was to gasp as her chest responded to a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes shot back and forth about the alley, but otherwise she remained still, too shocked to move. She could hear people shouting, their dying screams, and gunfire. At first she felt nothing but a strange, all-encompassing numbness, but slowly her nerve endings returned to life. She tried wiggling her fingers and toes and found them responsive but sluggish. The more she moved, the more her blood returned to circulation, and sensation increased. She was acutely aware of the rough gravel against her neck, but she felt neither cold nor warm. The scent of blood overpowered her senses, and she instinctively knew that it was her own blood. The sickeningly sweet smell clouded her thinking.

What had happened? She could have sworn that she had been sleeping but a moment ago. She had been warm, drowsy, and content in that sleep.

Claire slid herself into a sitting position and leaned against the brick wall behind her. She could hear so many sounds but couldn't see their sources. She closed her eyes in confusion. She felt alive, but something was different. Her body did not feel the same as it had before. She was acutely aware of this but describing the difference proved impossible. An image of a tentacle protruding from her chest flashed across her vision.

_No_, her mind screamed. Her eyes opened and she began trembling in disgust and fear. With unsteady hands, she removed her outer jacket and fingered the holes in the pink fabric underneath. Two large, blood-rimmed circles played testimony to what had happened. She probed the skin beneath and found it intact but tender. Her hands dropped and she began to sob. She was one of them now. She wanted to scream, to rip something apart, to get the smell of blood out of her nostrils, even to curl into a grave and die. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up!_

As her chest heaved with her heavy crying, she stood and retrieved her fallen gun. Yes, her body felt the same and different at the same time. She did not want to think about it. Several men walked by the alley, and Claire crouched. She had heard them coming long before she had seen them, and she recognized their white bio-suits. She dreaded the thought of them getting their hands on her. If she were caught, she would become an experiment. The idea both infuriated and depressed her.

"Chris," she remembered. He was waiting for her. She checked her watch. Hardly any time had elapsed since they were separated. She could find him and get out of here, but fear seized her. Would he even accept what she had become? _Yes_, she decided, but her heart was overwhelmed with the shame of confessing. Chris of all people shouldn't have had to deal with this, and Claire wouldn't even want him to see her again if she looked like a freak.

She surveyed her body and found that she looked normal. _Your eyes_…she panicked. There was no way to tell what they looked like. Maybe they were normal. This was entirely too new to deal with at the moment. She did not want to worry about telling Chris when she herself was still struggling with what had happened; she could worry about explaining later. Escape was the main thing now. Claire's jaw was firmly set. She was still Claire Redfield, and so she readied herself for action.

If she had any hope of concealing what had happened to her, she realized that her favorite jacket had to go. The evidence of mortal wounds was overly apparent. She ripped it off and let it laid in the dirt with the other jacket. Her shirt followed, leaving Claire in her bra as she rooted about her backpack. Thank god it was still there. She pulled on an extra shirt and ran for the streets. The motion was effortless, which surprised Claire. There was literally no muscular strain, even though she was aware that she was indeed running at a fast pace for her. _Maybe not a fast pace anymore_. She shuddered.

_At least escaping will be easy_, she consoled herself. After all, she could hear where everything was, and she skirted around sound sources. She reached the field separating her and the car and found it bustling with the activity of security and scientists. She stopped dead in her tracks. Several injured villagers were lying, restrained on stretchers and having their vitals checked. It was not the sight that halted Claire so much as the sensations flooding her senses.

The bright light reflecting off of their white uniforms burned her eyes. She could smell sweat, gun smoke, cleaning chemicals, death, and more. There were so many smells that she could not differentiate them. And the noises—her ears rang with a cacophony of voices, cars, and machinery. It was overwhelming. She couldn't hear herself thinking she was so distracted. She tried to understand what her senses were telling her, but she couldn't sort them out. Confusion began to take over her system as she closed her eyes and shook her head. It was too much. Nothing made sense. The more she tried to separate things, the more they seemed to blur together.

A man in a white suit approached her and was saying something, but she couldn't differentiate his words from the other sounds. He grabbed her arm and she stumbled forward alongside of him. She just wanted to stop listening and smelling and keep her eyes hidden. She did not like the painful reflection of light off of their whiteness. It stung, but she kept opening her eyes to see what was happening. They were getting closer to the gathering of people. Claire's common sense alerted her that she should not be with this man. He would hurt her.

She tore her arm from his grasp and struck him. He instantly crumbled to her feet with a pained yell, but Claire barely heard it. People were staring at her and the man with the broken ribs at her feet. Claire staggered backward. Her panic meter was rising, and she knew that she should run. The multitude of noises vying for her attention continued in a deafening roar, but one commanding, surprised voice cut through all of them. She heard it like a whisper on the wind, and it only caught her attention because of its familiarity.

"Miss Redfield?" That voice. Shit. Suddenly the other noises faded into the background and she focused on that one utterance. She looked around, spinning in worry. "Don't let her escape." It was the same male voice. Wesker? Was it Wesker? What the hell was Wesker doing in Russia? She gripped her hands so tightly that her fingernails drew blood. The pain gave her momentary clarity in the whirlwind engulfing her, and Claire took the opportunity to bolt. She ran and heard pursuit behind her, but it quickly faded. She recognized the hill ahead. Chris was just coming over the top of its crest.

"Claire!" he yelled and ran down the hill to lift her in a hug. "I was getting ready to go back for you. Are you okay?" Claire hastily nodded. The world was quieter here. She could think again, and she clung to Chris like her life depended on it. The force in her grip stunned Chris. "Sis, don't squeeze so hard." Claire hastily released him, afraid that perhaps she had hurt him.

"They're after us," she blurted. No second warning was needed. They jumped into the car and drove like mad into the distance. A small camp of security guards tried to stop them by shooting at their vehicle, but they plowed through the checkpoint without stopping. Claire sat in the passenger seat and stared into the overhead mirror.

"Sis, it's a funny time to be worrying about you hair," Chris joked. Claire responded, but she wasn't sure what she had said as she examined her eyes. They were blue, perhaps even a bit brighter in color than before, she thought. But they were not only blue. There were flecks of amber dotting the irises, like gold dust scattered overtop sapphires. Claire closed the mirror and reclined in her seat. The motor was incredibly loud and frustrating. It crashed against her nerves like a sledgehammer.

"Claire, what's wrong?" Chris asked. She was uncharacteristically quiet.

"I'm not sure," she honestly answered. "I can't verbalize it right now. I just, I have a really bad headache." _Oh Chris_, her heart ached. _How am I going to tell you that I died_? She had a long car ride to decide. She could wait that long. Right now she only wanted to sleep and leave reality for a short time; but sleep eluded her. She closed her eyes, but her senses remained so finely tuned and alert that she could not relax enough to rest. It was frustrating, and she hated it. Whatever she had become, she didn't want to face it.

************

Albert Wesker was barely listening to the man beside him as he walked through the temporary testing site. He was pleased that everything was going according to plan. Based on the data that they were collecting, the people here had responded quickly to infection, but the mental faculties of the infected were still unsatisfactory. The scientist was explaining to him that they were finding increased speed and basic skills in the dead, like opening doors, but not much else. Still, progress was progress.

"Excuse us, sir!" several man hurriedly apologized as they rushed by his tall frame. "We need another stretcher for the new one." Wesker lazily trailed after them, interested to see first hand one of the people here mutate. His superiors had ordered him to personally prove that this virus of his was worth investing in. Wesker sneered at their pathetic attempts at playing his bargaining equal. One day he would let them see first hand how the virus worked. He privately smirked at the thought of them at his feet, mutating and begging him to spare them in his new world order.

He rounded one of the makeshift lab tents and instantly stalled.

"Miss Redfield?" he softly spoke. His first reaction was surprise, and then interest. How was she here? He hadn't seen or heard news of her in months. All he knew was that the anti-Umbrella squad was being inactive as of late.

Claire's head jerked in his direction, but her eyes were clouded with uncertainty. He examined her dazed appearance and erratic movements. She nervously pivoted and kept squeezing her watering eyes shut. Wesker wondered if she had been given a sedative of some kind. He would soon find out. He motioned toward several men as Claire's legs tensed and she stepped backward like she might flee. "Don't let her escape," he ordered them, and they scurried to follow his coldly directed order. "She is not to be harmed," he added. "Bring her to me." Claire suddenly spun and ran. Wesker moved to watch her disappeared into the distance. Normal humans could not run that fast.

He had continually pondered how her virus situation was developing, but he had not expected such changes before death. He had known that she was alive, so he hadn't bothered checking up on her for weeks, but maybe he should have been paying closer attention. He called ahead to the next group, several miles back on the road, and ordered them to be on the lookout for and detain any travelers.

_Claire_. He moved into the city to survey the damage for his report, but he found it difficult to think of anything except his former hostage. The last that he had seen her was directly after her rescue, when he had returned to the house. He knew that she wouldn't turn her friends onto his dwelling, and he had seen her looking in his direction until she could no longer keep it in view. Her expression when he had said goodbye—he recalled it perfectly, with its torn emotions, and before that, in the lab, the kiss. She had pressed herself into his arms and accepted his affection willingly. He smirked. He had thought at that moment that maybe he could take her with him because she would accept his offer. He was disappointed that she had not.

What did she think of him now, he wondered. She had gone through plenty of recovery time, and she kept herself submerged in a group that hated him. He could not blame her if the affection that she had borne him had withered and died, but Claire Redfield was impossibly attached to her ideals and will, so he doubted that she had completely turned her back on what she had felt. If she had come to his mind throughout the intervening months, then he was certain that he had come to hers. She was, quite frankly, impossible to forget. A man like him could not forget the only person who had ever sat in his home with him and talked about Christmas parties. Yes, he had remembered Claire fondly, but still objectively.

That brought him back to the present.

A bright color caught his eye. It might have gone unnoticed anywhere else, but hot pink was one shade not otherwise present in this godforsaken town. Wesker moved into the alley and lifted the discarded jacket. There were other articles of clothing also, and it didn't take him long to realize what had happened. He ran his fingers over the gaping holes and blood-soaked fabric. This had happened sooner than he had anticipated given Claire's knack for survival, but he was pleased.

He immediately began contemplating what possible, physical improvements she had gained and where she currently was. No matter. He would find her. He again saw her dazed form and in a rare occurrence, sympathized with her. The brain did not immediately catch up with the transformation after death. He remembered the hideous transition period where he had felt ready to explode, but he was Wesker and had fumbled through it on his own. He would find her, and in her condition, how could she refuse his services? If he were quick, his timing would be perfect, and he truly did not want her to do anything foolish while confused. It was his calculating side that was at work here, but he fully recognized that he would be pleased to have Claire back in his grasp for additional reasons that, taken alone, he would never act on. He strode away with purpose and decided that the damn report could wait.


	4. Chapter 4: Coping

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Let's celebrate with some Claire/Wesker goodness.

______________

Chapter 33: Coping

Chris sat on the edge of Claire's bed and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and stared mindlessly at the ceiling. He was increasingly worried about her since they had fled Russia. They were back in the states after four days of continuous travel. They had literally not stopped moving since they had begun driving away from the test sight. Claire had been quiet the first day but for the occasional irritated snap at Chris for trying to turn the radio on. She had adamantly protested music and had been tense and jumpy when they came across people.

The next day, she had mellowed some and was back to joking with him, but she had stilled been skittish. Once in the city, she had encouraged Chris to talk and tell her stories about working in Stars, especially in crowded areas, where she had insisted on holding his hand as well. Chris did not understand where her strange behavior came from, but she assured him that she was merely not feeling well and that his voice calmed her. The airplanes had been the worst. On the first flight, Claire had kept a death grip on the armrests when someone's baby began to cry. The entire journey had been filled with awkward situations and reactions, and Chris had done his best to keep to Claire's comfortable to no avail.

Now they were back at their tiny apartment, and Claire had gone straight to bed. No wonder. Chris hadn't seen her sleep for those four days, and she looked like a disaster. He would stay with her tonight and maybe she would tell him what was wrong. Chris thought that she had gotten sick in Russia, and it scared him witless. His face must have betrayed his intense worry, for Claire squeezed his hand lovingly. He looked at her. The blue eyes were watching him, and Chris was struck by their brilliant blue color. He had never seen them quite that shade, but it was probably the moonlight.

"Do we need to go to the hospital?" Chris asked her. Claire shook her head. It was so much more peaceful here in her room, in the darkness. The trip had been horrible—four days of confusion and hell. Chris had been the only thing tethering her to the ground, an anchor in the chaos. She could hear him talking above the other noise, and, as weird as it was, he had a certain smell that she was learning to associate with him. Perhaps his familiarity allowed him to override the stimuli assaulting her senses. She didn't know.

"I can't explain, Chris," she apologized. "It's...I feel sick, and it's hard to think straight. Maybe if I get some sleep, I'll be better." She would tell him about the virus, she decided, but not tonight. She needed to rest and clear her thoughts. "Do you remember when we were kids and they'd do something bad to us?" she asked, referring to their adoptive aunt and uncle. "You used to sit by me and comfort me until I fell asleep." Chris tightened his grip on her hand.

"I'm going to stay right here," he promised. Claire smiled and sunk her head into her pillow. "Claire, do you think that this has something to do with the infection you survived from Brazil?" Claire's chest tightened, and she stiffly nodded. "You're scared to tell me something, aren't you?" Again, Claire nodded. "You have to tell me, Claire."

"What if it's too horrible to share?" Claire whispered as she began to cry.

"I'm your brother; you can tell me anything. Does it have to do with Wesker?" he suddenly pressed, anger in his voice. If he had anything to do with this…

"No. It would have happened with or without him kidnapping me." _The virus would have just taken longer to incubate_, she mentally added. "Please, Chris, not tonight. I just want to sleep."

"Okay, stupid," Chris joked. Claire gave a snort of laughter and closed her eyes. Chris released her hand and sat on the floor beside her, where he stayed the entire night, as he promised. Claire fell asleep after several hours of waiting and dreamed of tentacles piercing her body. It was worse than any nightmare about Raccoon, for now the nightmare wasn't just chasing her; she was the nightmare.

***********

Claire awoke suddenly. Whereas before her body took time to wake up, she now felt instantly alert. She smelled Chris's scent and turned her head to find him sleeping with his head tilted back against the wall. She grinned at his gaping mouth and the small dribble of drool running down the side of his chin. She would needle him about that later.

She stood and was again reminded of how her body had changed. The floor did not feel cool, as it usually did in the morning. In fact, she was completely indifferent to temperature. She was aware that it was warm, but she did not feel warm. Her mind couldn't quite wrap around that as she left the bedroom. She wished that it was completely quiet, but she could distinctly hear water dripping in the kitchen and someone walking on the floor above her.

She opened the living room blinds and immediately regretted it. The shock to her eyes made her see stars, and it took several minutes for the pain to subside. She didn't understand why her eyes hurt, for she didn't feel any improvement in her vision_. It must be a negative side effect_, she thought and instantly reprimanded herself. They were all negative side effects.

In the kitchen, she reached for the cereal and stopped. She usually woke up hungry, but she wasn't hungry. She pictured Wesker infrequently eating his noodles. Did she require little food like him? She roughly grabbed the box of food and proceeded to eat a bowl, even though she didn't need it. Doing something so utterly human made her feel like she hadn't changed, but the cereal tasted abnormally bland. There was no enjoyment to be found in it, even with its mass quantities of sugar.

Next came a shower. She stripped and examined herself in the mirror. Two new scars had been added to her body. There were traces of circular wounds under her left breast and at the center of her abdomen. She ran her fingers over the extra soft skin and then retracted her hand in disgust. She sighed and examined her eyes again. She would have considered the gold flecks pretty if she hadn't known their source. The rest of her seemed intact, and she threw back the shower curtain as she wondered what else had changed.

The water felt marvelous as it cascaded over her curves and skin. The simple noise drowned out everything else. The water carried a vague scent, and the heat made the air thick in her nose, but the feel of the water was the same. Hearing, sight, scent—those had changed, but touch had not. At least one thing belonged to her old body. She began shaving her legs and nicked herself as Chris knocked on the door.

"Stop hogging the bathroom, Claire!"

"Chris, I'm showering. Wait your turn." Chris loudly sighed, and Claire giggled until she noticed the blood on her leg. She froze. It wasn't red. Well, it was red, but not her old red. It was a darker, deeper shade with a hint of purple. She saw Alexia and the purple veins bulging at points on the woman's skin and wanted to hurl. There were no veins showing on her, but her blood did not look like a normal person's. She rested her head against the shower wall and inhaled deeply to calm herself. Umbrella had taken everything now. She couldn't have a normal life or family. She couldn't even trust her own body.

"CLAIRE!" Chris demanded. "I can't wait." Claire shut the water off and exited the bathroom with a towel around her. She allowed herself a sense of relief. Umbrella hadn't taken everything. She still had Chris, and Jill, and the others. Unless she was left alone with her condition, she still had what mattered.

The day passed and Claire kept looking outside. She wanted to try going out, but even opening a window caused her head to spin with sensations. She was trapped inside, but, as evening approached, she ventured onto the balcony. Chris watched her but gave her space to think. It was Jill's suggestion for every time that Claire seemed distant, and he decided to take the advice.

Claire inhaled the night breeze and rested her hands on the railing. The confusion and panic set in almost immediately. She wrung her hands and stepped back from the view with dread. It was still too much. She instinctively reached for the door to escape, but then a certain smell crushed the others. It was tantalizing, sweet, beckoning. Claire stopped and automatically honed in on it. Her nerves were on fire. She wanted to find that smell.

"Chris, I'm going for a short walk, ok?" she said. "The night air will be good for me."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Chris eagerly asked, but his phone began ringing. Claire smiled and shook her head.

"You'd better not keep your girlfriend waiting. See you later!" She exited the apartment complex and followed her nose. The stronger the smell got, the faster she moved. Other scents and noises didn't even phase her in the pursuit. She barely registered them, and soon she had reached a side street not three blocks from where she lived. She could not see perfectly in the darkness, but she moved forward eagerly. Behind the dumpster, she realized. That's where it was. Her instincts drove her onward.

_What the hell?_ She was looking at the corpse of a dead dog. Even as her mind was revolted, her hand reached downward toward its bloody side. Her fingers dug into the putrid carcass and ripped free a piece of flesh. She started to raise it to her mouth. _No, no, no, no_. Her mind raged, but her body drove her on with anticipation. With the bloody scent in her nose, she was hardly thinking straight.

"Claire, don't!" Someone smacked the flesh out of her hand, and Claire angrily went to retrieve it. Arms more powerful than her own ensnared her arms and chest and pulled her backward. She struggled violently against the restraints and even snarled once or twice. "Leave it be. You don't really want it." With the strong command, her mind cleared and she saw the carcass in front of her for what it was. She felt the stickiness of blood between her fingers and gagged. Whoever had stopped her now released her as she turned to the side and vomited. _What did I almost do_? She still felt the need to vomit, but there was nothing left in her to spill.

She stayed doubled over and breathing deeply. Someone stood behind her, patiently waiting the entire time, and she was certain that she knew who it was. The same person held a cloth out to her as she turned, and Claire wiped her mouth.

"Miss Redfield, I was not expecting our next meeting to be so soon." Wesker seemed to belong to the darkness of the alley as he blended in so well with the shadows. He was expressionless as he studied Claire. She did not look any different.

"Neither did I, Wesker," she answered, still shaken to her core. She had been expecting him to come, even anticipating it. He was like her; he had answers, and he had just stopped her from doing something that she could not even fathom.

"You do not seemed pleased to see me," Wesker snidely noted.

"Should I be? Don't you want to turn me into a science project? That's what you've been waiting for…" Wesker stepped closer to her, and Claire merely examined his shoes. She was too vulnerable to stare into the impenetrable sunglasses veiling his red eyes.

"Given your current condition, it would be wise of you to accompany me." He ran a gloved hand down Claire's cheek. She had never forgotten how startlingly smooth and tender his touch could be. She began to remember what it was like to have his arms around her while making some smartass comment or threat in her ear. He lowered his hand when she jerked her head to the side. "Dear heart, I won't lock you away in a testing room or somewhere where you can't see the sun; that I promise. The changes…" He never got to finish, for Claire cut him off.

"I haven't changed!" Claire affirmed. "I'm still Claire Redfield, and I'm not leaving my brother for someone who's interested in me for research. I have to help him fight. I'm fine. Nothing's wrong with me!" She ran out onto the street and was immediately stunned into inaction. Her senses were again on fire, and she groaned. She hadn't noticed in her chase after the dog, but she was in a very active, nightlife scene of the small city. She nearly yelped in fright as Wesker wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back onto the side street. He held her against his chest, and Claire allowed him that. His head was against the side of hers as he whispered into her ear. Claire lost herself in his commanding voice, for, like Chris's, it blocked out other sounds.

"Claire, Chris can't help you with this. You haven't even told him yet, have you? What can your darling brother do? What will he think when you tell him about the dog? This is in both of our interests, dear heart, and I have never treated you poorly. Apparently I was under the false impression that you were comfortable in my care." Claire leaned back into his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _

It calmed her. His voice grew softer, almost sympathetic. "It's overwhelming, I know, but the worst is passed." He cradled her closer, and Wesker was pleased to have her accepting his touch again.

"I was comfortable," Claire admitted, "but still a prisoner. If I say no, will you force me to go with you?" Wesker smirked at her astuteness, for the answer to such a question would reveal how wise or unwise her decision to follow him would be. He had anticipated this. Of course it was in his benefit to give her a choice.

"No," he simply stated. "You may return to your brother, if you wish. But be warned, Claire, this will only get worse if you deny it." He loosened his grip and Claire broke away from him. She studied his somber face, but it betrayed nothing. He held out a hand to her, and part of Claire wanted to take it, to feel the security that his protection would offer in her ordeal. Behind those sunglasses were eyes that marked him like her amber flecks marked her. They were the only two of their kind. The world buzzed around them, but Claire felt like it was just the two of them all over again.

"Not this time, Wesker. The choices you give always have strings attached." Wesker had not expected her to reject his hand, but he wasn't displeased. It showed that her spirit wasn't as broken as it had seemed moments earlier. He let her run away, but he expected her to be back. And, if she chose not to accept his offer, he would need to exert some persuasion. It was in her best interest, even if he did have ulterior motives, and he would make her see that.

Claire made it back to the apartment and stepped inside. Chris waved to her, and she smiled hollowly back. He had apparently been waiting for her, for now he stood to go to his room. He was still on the phone with Jill.

"One second, Jill," Chris said. "I'll be back out to talk in a moment," he told Claire. She sat on the cheap furniture and twiddled a pen in her fingers. She could focus on nothing except the dog and her hunger for it. Chris would be disgusted. Hell, she didn't even want to know herself right now. She broke the pen in half in her frustration and moped about the kitchen. Wesker might not be able to control her as easily now that she had changed. Maybe she could stay with him for only a while, until she learned to cope with what she had become. He would know what was happening to her. She didn't want to spend the rest of her days avoiding crowds and running to the shower to drown her senses.

What about Chris? He wouldn't understand if he knew that she as going to Wesker, and then another thought occurred to Claire. Maybe Wesker had a cure for the virus, maybe. _But he doesn't want you to get better_, she reminded herself. Damn. She couldn't stay like this and she couldn't just go. She wanted her life back. She grabbed paper and began scribbling a note to Chris.

_Dear Chris,_

_I haven't been completely honest with you. I am infected with whatever Alexia had, and it's taken over my body. I can't control it, and I don't know what to do. I never meant to hurt you or keep secrets. I was confused and desperate, and I didn't know how you would react. I know better now. You will always love me, but I won't be of any use to you like this, and you need to keep up the fight instead of taking care of my problems. Please understand. I am going to leave for a while, but don't worry. I'll be fine, and I know what I'm doing. I'm going to find an antivirus for this or learn to master it. I'll be back as soon as I can to help carry the workload. I promise. Take care of yourself. _

_I love you._

_Claire_

She was satisfied with the note and placed it on the kitchen counter. It killed her not to say goodbye, but she didn't think that she had an option, for Chris would try to stop her. She had her phone so that he could call but not follow her. She steeled her nerves as she grabbed the doorknob. It was now or never. She walked the hallways and exited into the courtyard with nothing but the clothing on her back, her wallet, and a pink cell phone. She was either making the biggest mistake of her life or the wisest gamble.

She was not surprised when Wesker detached himself from the darkness at the edge of the courtyard and stood waiting for her. She hated that he had anticipated this and had come to wait for her. She approached him and folded her arms across her chest.

"You've had a change of heart, I take it," Wesker smugly stated.

"Nothing is without its risks," she retorted. "I'll take mine with you. So where's the black car?" Wesker smirked.

"I fear that I'm becoming predictable."

"You?" Claire scoffed. "I wish." The answer seemed to amuse Wesker as he removed a set of keys from his pants. Claire wanted to ran a hand through his perfect blond hair and leave it a mess, anything to break his image of control.

"It's parked several blocks away. Shall we go then, Claire? I'm afraid that we have a tight schedule to keep." Claire did not immediately follow him.

"Wait," she said. "How is this going to work? I'm not going as your hostage." Wesker regarded her sternly.

"Dear heart, this is my invitation that you're accepting, and I will make the rules." Claire glowered. "You will be treated well and benefit from this, so long as you understand that I am doing this on my own prerogative and expect your respect. Everything else is unwritten. Those are the terms you choose to accept by taking this offer."

"Risky," Claire repeated to herself, but she knew that it wouldn't be a painful experience. Wesker had been almost kind and often friendly before they had last parted.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"You'll take my sarcasm, within reason, and you won't perform any tests on me that I don't approve of," Claire demanded. "I won't be subservient, and I'm not going to be hit into submission. Also, this is a temporary arrangement—that is, me staying with you. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them." Wesker smiled at her attempt at bargaining. Claire always did have a strong backbone.

"Claire, when were you ever subservient even when you did get hit?" Wesker mocked. "It's not in you, dear heart, and I know that I'll have to deal with sarcasm. It's part of the Redfield charm. As for the tests, you have my word that I will get your consent for them." Claire could not believe her ears. Why was Wesker allowing concessions? Did he fear that he could not force Claire now that she was more powerful? She eyed him suspiciously, and he smiled at her.

"What good is the word of a traitor?" she pressed sharply.

"Dear heart, I am making this offer once and only once. I will not repeat myself, and I am getting impatient. Come with me or stay here." He knew that she would come, for she had a strong sense of self-preservation and they were not strictly enemies.

"Deal," Claire agreed. But she was thinking away. Why did Wesker want her so badly? It couldn't be good. He was an enigma of a man, and his plans formed a spider web. She felt that there had to be fine print somewhere that she wasn't seeing.

"Are you ready to go now?" Wesker questioned impatiently. His temper would not handle it well should Chris burst out of the building and pursue them, but he could not risk killing him in front of Claire. She trailed behind him as they exited the courtyard, but then she heard something. It was soft, sorrowful, and grabbed her heartstrings. Claire couldn't depart with that sound following her.


	5. Chapter 5: Together Again

Chapter 34: Together Again

"Wesker, wait," Claire requested. Wesker turned to her in annoyance, but his mood changed as he observed her troubled face. He could hear it too—someone was crying. He simply hadn't thought much about it. "Missy," Claire said worriedly. "I'll be back." She moved to a stairwell leading upward to the second floor. A little girl sat crouched in that stairwell with her head in her hands. Wesker kept his distance to watch.

"Missy," Claire called. The girl's head lifted to reveal bloodshot eyes puffy with tears. A red mark on her cheek let Claire know that she had been slapped. "Oh, Missy. Come here." Missy sobbed and wrapped arms around Claire's neck. Claire let the girl sit on her lap as she cradled her and spoke softly to her. Red eyes examined the smoothness with which Claire placated the girl.

"It's okay. It's okay," Claire soothed. Missy's tears were running down the side of her neck, and Claire stroked her hair. "What happened?"

"Dad got angry because I broke a plate. I was just trying to wash it." Missy buried her face deeper into the groove of Claire's neck, and Claire held her tightly. "Can't I stay with you?" Claire wanted to weep for the girl's predicament, for she remembered similar emotions in her own life. Her eyes passed over Wesker's nearby form, and she wondered what he was thinking.

"Missy, I can't be a mother," Claire said with a touch of bitterness. "I don't think it would be a good idea." _Not now that you're a monster_, her mind added. Claire's eyes were distant and troubled as she loosened her hold on the girl. "But I'm going to talk to your father, ok?"

"No, he's angry." Claire left the girl in the hallway with a brief glance at Wesker and knocked on the door of the apartment where Missy lived. A man answered it, and, before Claire knew what she was doing, she pushed him inside and slammed the door behind her. Wesker's eyebrows arched as he contemplated how far Claire would take this, and all for the sake of some innocent child whose education in cruelty had only begun. Wesker stared at the girl, who was staying away from him. It had been a long time since he had been around a child. This one was lucky to have placed her trust in someone as sincere as Claire, for a child's trust was too easily misplaced. Wesker had seen and used that firsthand at Umbrella.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" the man that Claire had pushed inside shouted. "Get out of my apartment!" Claire slapped the man across the face, but harder than she had intended. He fell over a chair and hit the floor.

"I'm going to have my eye on you," Claire darkly promised. Her own memories of abuse flooded her vision. "If you ever hit Missy again, it will be the biggest regret of your life, understand?" Her emotions ran high as she slammed her fist into the wall for emphasis. The man's eyes widened in shock as the wall loudly cracked in response. Her fist had even left an indent and cracks. "Promise," Claire demanded.

"I…I promise."

"Good." Claire reemerged into the hallway, and Missy ran into her arms. "If he does anything again, you tell Chris, okay? He'll take of it." The girl possessively clung to Claire. "I have to leave for a while, but I'll do my best to come back." She pointedly stared at Wesker during her pledge. "Be good for me."

"Play with me when you come back," Missy demanded. Claire sadly smiled and nodded before releasing her and telling her to go to bed. She stared a while at the door, knowing that the promise that she had elicited had probably been short term.

"You're good with children, Miss Redfield," Wesker coolly complimented from where he stood behind her. "But do you think you've changed anything for her?"

"No," Claire sighed. "But when I was her age, it meant something to me when I knew that someone at least cared." She found him giving her his contemplative expression. "You've always said that the world is a cruel place. You were right."

"But you do your best to correct that, don't you, Claire?" Wesker questioned. "You may no longer be human, but you're most certainly still the same Claire Redfield." He did not sound disapproving. "We have lingered long enough. Let's go before Chris decides to play the knight in shining armor." Claire thought that he might have been trying to offer her some reassurance with his words, and she followed him toward the streets.

"Where exactly are we going?" she asked. They were taking back roads and streets where the nightlife was not as overpowering. Claire still kept losing track of her thoughts given nearby noises and smells, but she managed to keep fairly focused.

"Somewhere where we won't be disturbed," came Wesker's crisp reply.

"That tells me a lot," Claire huffed under her breath. Wesker smirked. They came to the end of the street they were in, which opened into a crowded, club area. Claire paled and stepped back into the alley as Wesker kept walking. She hesitated to enter the lively world before her for reasons that Wesker understood but seemed to be ignoring.

"Dear heart," Wesker said, half turning toward her, "The car is beyond these cheap establishments, near the park, I'm afraid." Claire still hesitated, and Wesker stared. "Focus on one thing only," he advised. Claire prepared herself and began walking. She focused solely on Wesker's sunglasses and tried to ignore everything else, but it was only barely working. Still, it was better than admitting defeat before this confident man. Her proud concentration snapped as she reached her destination, and her brain immediately went haywire. She braced to run, but Wesker wrapped an arm around her to keep her still.

"Let me go," Claire requested in her daze.

"No," Wesker responded. "Claire, pick one sensation or thought and focus on it. Everything else will become secondary when you concentrate." Claire squeezed her eyes shut and searched for something, anything. Wesker began to walk again, but slowly so that she could catch up with him. She hated feeling helpless and didn't want him to think her weak, which turned out to be her greatest spur to action. His somber, dark form going ahead of her recalled an image to mind. How had she forgotten? When stressed she had once always recited to calm herself, to fight inaction and give coherence to her emotions. She lips began moving and her feet with them.

"You are a child, you think only of love, in whose other arms you will find refuge," she softly spoke into the night. "The man walks on, blank and without veering. Where there are objects, he walks over rather than around them. The knife rises in her hand as she wipes her eyes. Comment vivre sans inconnu devant soi? He departed with great pledges of love and went back to his life never to call her again…" The world fell away as she continued with her recitations. If Wesker had any inclination that he had called the verses to mind, he gave none.

"The Angel of History," Wesker commented, jerking Claire from her thoughts.

"What? How do you know that?"

"I was curious to see what a woman like you preferred to read," Wesker stated. "And you left it lying around in the evening while you slept." That was a long time ago, Claire recalled, in her first week of captivity with him. "Dostoyevsky, Carolyn Forche, King Lear—dear heart, judging solely by your taste, you seem fixated with tragedy." Claire shrugged as he unlocked the car, which was indeed black.

"When you've lost a lot, you tend to be attracted to expressions of that, I guess," Claire reasoned. "And tragedy tends to trouble people. Happiness needs no explanation or expression outside of real experience. But I _could_ recite something happy," she argued. "I'm not all doom and gloom."

"There's no need to be defensive," Wesker smirked. "I'm merely keeping you distracted from your senses, and I prefer the realism of tragedy myself." Oh. Claire shut her mouth and climbed into the car with some hesitation. It was Wesker's car, after all.

"Is it always this hard?" Claire openly asked as she reflected on what she had just gone through. She was happy to realize that being in the car muffled outside sounds.

"It gets easier." The car navigated the streets and found the highway, where Claire watched the endless roads zoom by. She used to sleep in the car, but not anymore. She wasn't please about that, for it made the ride feel like eternity with Wesker busy in his own head. The lack of sleep bothered Claire more than anything else. It wasn't that she was tired but that her mind wanted to take a break that her body didn't require. She felt the two sides were fighting with each other when the phone in her pocket lit up. The ring tone blared loudly. Wesker's eyebrows rose questioningly at the song selection.

_Hey, Hey, you, you! I don't like your girlfriend! Hey, hey, no way! I think you need a new one. Hey, hey, you you! I want to be your girlfriend!_

Claire hurriedly snatched the phone from her pocket with some embarrassment and answered it while Wesker's red eyes shifted to take quick glances at her out of the corner of his sunglasses. It wasn't like she actually liked the song, but she wasn't going to explain that to Wesker. Chris hated the girlfriend song, so naturally Claire had chosen it as his specific ring tone. It drove him nuts.

"Hello?" Claire answered, making sure to keep an eye on Wesker's hands.

"Claire, where the hell are you?" Chris demanded. "I read your letter, and, and, and, where are you? You need to come home. I can help—you're my sister. Shit, Claire, that was a big secret to keep."

"It's worse than you understand," Claire explained. "I have to do this."

"Not on your own," Chris argued, and Claire smiled at the determined sincerity in his tone. She loved that about Chris.

"You can't protect me from everything and solve my problems, Chris," she sighed. Wesker's head turned toward her for a moment and she protectively gripped the phone and scooted away from him.

"Bullshit, Claire," but he knew that he had failed to protect her in the past. "I can try, and it won't distract me from work."

"Yes it will. Listen, Chris, I have to do some things on my own. I don't need you always looking over my shoulder. Remember that I've survived without you, and I'm not trying to be mean by saying that, because I love you. I just need to do this." There was a long pause. "Look, do you remember when we were on Rockfort and you told me to go while you fought Wesker? It was pointless. Neither of us should have stayed to do that, but because of what happened to you, you felt that you had to stay, and you didn't want me to be around for it. It was your fight." Claire felt awkward mentioning such an event with Wesker sitting right beside her.

"That was different," Chris said, but with a note of reserve that told Claire that he finally understood. "I don't want you to get hurt, Claire."

"I'll keep a tally of offenders so that you can kick their asses when I get back, ok?" Chris lightly laughed. He wouldn't be so accepting if he knew that she was with Wesker. In fact, he'd probably send her to an insane asylum or disown her.

"Come home soon," Chris added. "I love you, stupid."

"I love you too, loser." She quickly shut the phone, because she knew that they'd suffer awkward silence if she didn't. Chris was always reluctant to hang up first when he was worried about her. "I suppose this is the part where you take and smash my phone," Claire sighed as she looked at Wesker, who had heard the entire conversation.

"No, dear heart" Wesker assured, causing Claire's eyes to narrow in disbelief. "But next time it rings, I will take the liberty of answering it." _Bastard_! If he answered her phone, and Chris figured out that she was with Wesker, she would wound Chris in a way that she'd never be able to completely mend. Smart, conniving, bastard. He knew it, judging by his smug, self-satisfied grin. He might as well have destroyed the phone. "Something bothering you, Miss Redfield?" he inquired with faked innocent.

"No," she snapped. She turned the phone off and slid it into her pants. "Just looking forward to a long car ride with the man who murders people in his free time."

"You've retained your way with words." Time went on in boredom and silence.

"Wesker?"

"Claire?"

"Do I get to remain conscious to see where we're going?"

"For once, yes."

"Splendid."

"Dear heart?"

"What?"

"It's a pleasure to have you back."


	6. Chapter 6: Home

Hey everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting. I was on holiday, and now my internet is not working. I have found public wi-fi just to update for all of you. I should have my own internet back shortly!

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Chapter 35: Home

Claire couldn't believe where Wesker had brought her. They were at the lab where Chris and the others had found her, only now the valley was lush and green. The place still seemed fairly deserted, since it was only meant for a few scientists, but they did pass another car on the road. Claire was surprised that the sweeping, forested hills were not very distant from a small city; they were just inaccessible during winter. She marveled at the natural beauty of the location and remembered how it had looked blanketed in snow. It stirred memories she both cherished and wanted to forget.

"Wesker, why are we here?" she asked. The conversation on the road had been sporadic and short due to Wesker's mood. He had especially seemed locked in thought for the last few hours.

"It's only practical," Wesker explained while he parked the car outside of the house that they had formerly shared. "It is the only location where I can work and bring you without rendering you unconscious. And, should predictable Chris catch wind of anything, he wouldn't think to look in the same place twice." Claire admitted that it made sense as they exited the car. The house hadn't changed in the slightest, but somehow Claire felt that it should have. She followed Wesker inside with a strange sense of things being out of place. She had accidently called this place home once.

"What happens now?" Claire asked. "How are you going to make this beneficial?" Wesker smirked as he sat on the couch.

"I think you know, dear heart," he drawled. "What you're experiencing will be difficult to deal with and potentially dangerous if you don't understand it. By the time we're done here, you'll have adapted." Claire nodded. That was, after all, the reason that she had come. "As for today, I have a few arrangements to make for our accommodation at the lab. You are free to relax. I'll return this evening."

"Okay." Claire didn't know what else to say. She stood watching Wesker, who watched her. "I'll sit here and you'll go to lab," she softly laughed. "That sounds familiar." Wesker's lips twitched upward in a genuine smile. "Can we talk tonight?"

"Even when I give no input, you tend to talk if you feel like it, Claire," Wesker reminded her as he stood. He recalled the uncertainty with which he had been forced to face his existence after returning to life. It had been a hellish experience for days, and he had often wondered during those first few weeks whether or not he would degrade into a lowly creature. It had been a matter of speculation and frustration with him rather than fear. He had accepted the negative outcomes before risking his life, but the fear in Claire's eyes was proof of what little choice she had in what she had become. "I will answer your questions when I return," he promised. He opened the door and stepped outside. With a mysterious glint to his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, and dear heart, try to behave while I'm gone."

Claire found herself alone in a house that she knew every square inch of and where she had connected with Wesker in a way that had taken her emotions for a spin. Still, he had kept his promise: there were windows, and it was comfortable. Claire wondered what his agenda was this time, but perhaps there was a shred of sincerity to his actions. When they had parted, his agenda had been increasingly mixed with other, less objective motives, or so she believed. Wesker, like her, still retained human qualities that even death could not trample out. She sighed. Here she was again, looking for the best in a man that moved people like figures on a chessboard. _But_, her memory stressed, _it's not only about his goals, not with you_. That piece of honesty added with their last kiss had given away the fact that Wesker had meant that he wanted her to stay.

"Damn man confuses the hell out of me," Claire scoffed as she wandered about the house. The kitchen was basically devoid of groceries now—the most prevalent item being instant noodles—and the place was spotlessly clean, as before. She moved upstairs and recalled laughing with Wesker in the bathroom, and how he had cornered her, and finally removed her towel while caressing her face. The still-appealing memory made her blush as she entered the bedroom. Wesker had sat right there, and she had slept there, for weeks. The sight of the bed actually brought comfort, for it promised warmth and softness. Wesker had even acted as an imposing protector during her days of sickness. His confidence and immortal like qualities had made her believe that she'd survive.

She opened the dresser, expecting to find it empty, but instead found the outfits that she had worn when here. Had Wesker been planning to bring her back here the entire time? She frowned and moved to the library. Her eyes scanned for a specific book, and, when she found it, she grinned. Sitting between two chemistry books was a thick collection of Shakespeare. She ran a finger over the spine and pulled it loose. She flipped through the pages and reread some of her notes. There was a passage circled with her name written above it in neat, clipped writing: _age cannot wither her, nor custom stale  
her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry  
where most she satisfies. . . ._She gently ran her fingers over the ink and slipped the book back on the shelf. He had to be making fun of her with that, but she still found the jest flattering

She retreated to the shower to calm her senses, which were still jittery from the new smells in this place. The water here even smelled different. Claire let the water dull her mind as she reflected on how easily she had slipped back into comfort in this house. She did not feel as guilty for choosing Wesker when she was here, but why? She sighed and stepped out of the shower. This place was removed from the rest of her life. Here things were permissible because no one could see her. It was like a part of her life that she kept sheltered from the outside world. Here she was only Claire Redfield, smartass woman, and he was only Albert Wesker, ambitious man.

She made her way to the bedroom out of habit and climbed into the bed. Taking in continual data without a rest overwhelmed her mind, and she prayed that her body would let her sleep. She forced her eyes closed in the darkness and slowed her breathing. After two hours without results, she resigned herself to staring at the ceiling. Now how was she supposed to escape her thoughts when they became too much? _I hate this_.

She heard the door downstairs open and listened to steady, measured footfalls. That alone told her that it was Wesker. His controlled movements were unique to men of his persuasion, and Claire suddenly admired how he could almost always appear calm and collected given his sensory abilities. She hoped that she could master her condition as he had. The feet paused outside of the bedroom door before he stepped inside. Claire laid still in the dark and watched him approach. He paused to observe her resting, as was his custom. He had to remind himself that Claire was probably not sleeping this time.

"I can't stand this," Claire stated. "I want to sleep. My head needs a break, but my freaking body is ready for action. How can you stand this?" Wesker sat on the bed near Claire's chest. She sat up so that they were eyelevel and leaned against the headboard. She breathed deeply and folded her hands over her knees.

"You only recently died," Wesker clinically explained, and Claire hated hearing him verbalize what had happened to her. "Your body has changed, but your mind hasn't caught up with that yet. Right now you may want to collapse under the strain, but you will adjust in time. Soon you'll be to handle hardly sleeping."

"What if I want to sleep for a mental break and not to refuel my body?" Claire pressed.

"I took sleeping pills," Wesker simply answered, and Claire turned toward him in surprise. "I don't take them anymore, but when I was learning to sleep less, I took pills to ease the crossover." With that, he pressed a bottle into her hands and Claire noted the faint warmth of his skin. She had never before considered that Wesker might have been initially troubled by his alterations. Sleep seemed too far beneath him.

"You don't need them now?"

"No," Wesker stated, and Claire wished that she could see his expression in the dark. "Sleeping less increases my productivity, and I'm accustomed to it. In time, you'll learn to still your body's system to the point where you can sleep if you choose to, but why retain human functions when they are no longer necessary?" Claire frowned.

"I've always liked to sleep. It gives me a chance to forget things like biohazards." She said the last bit with some bite as she continued to roll her fingers over the bottle. "Thank you for the pills." Soft, blue eyes tried to stare through Wesker's sunglasses. "There was no one to give you advice," she said with a ring of sympathy. "You had to figure everything out for yourself." Wesker removed his gloves and laid a hand against the side of Claire's face while stroking her cheek. It was just like her to express concern for people who hardly merited it. His own words came back to him: _Anyone else would have let me die. _

"It was not such an ordeal for someone fascinated with what he had gained," he softly contemplated. "But you're the exact opposite. So many people would envy the gift that you've received, and you still want to be rid of it. Is our condition so repulsive to you, Claire? You could do great things with your gift." Claire found herself leaning into his touch. It really was too easy to slip over boundaries when in the place where the line had first been crossed.

"Maybe," she silently allowed. "But right now it's a curse. I still want to be normal." Her eyes began to water. "I saw the kitchen. The food's gone, but I guess a corpse doesn't need to eat…" She tried to turn her head away, but Wesker's firm grip forced her to remain looking at him.

"Claire, you are not a corpse. _We_," he stressed, "are not corpses. You and I are very much alive." Claire was startled by the aggressive severity in his voice. "You are no longer human, true, but you've become something better, faster, more powerful. You'll come to appreciate your potential in time." Claire let a tear free. "Dear heart…" She shook her head.

"I think that I'll just take the sleeping pills and try to forget what I am for the night. Power doesn't attract me like it does you. Promises of it can't comfort me. If you were anything like Chris, you'd know that." She did not know why she chose those words, only that it seemed an appropriate comparison since she had chosen Wesker over Chris. Wesker's blank face revealed nothing of his reaction to the comment, but he released her chin and Claire sensed annoyance. Wesker had heard the conversation in the car, and he knew what kind of comfort her brother gave, but Chris was a weakling for stressing how things would not change rather than making Claire proud of what she was—so typically Chris.

Claire had the urge to escape Wesker's dark presence, as he said nothing, but he did have the urge to shoot Chris in the gut and watch him bleed. Claire's tears were still silently falling, and she nervously awaited a reaction from Wesker, but his testiness was not directed toward her. Damn that pathetic, humane Chris for interfering even when he was nowhere in sight.

"Claire," Wesker coldly addressed. "The power issue aside, do you feel any different? Do you think or feel differently? I'm looking at the same Claire that was where you are now months ago." Claire sighed and sank down onto her back and swallowed two pills without water. She was surprised when Wesker shifted to sit against the headboard with her head on the pillow beside his lap. She almost laughed at the strangeness of the situation. He was going to sit with her like Chris had done. She closed her eyes as Wesker ran fingers through her hair.

"Goodnight, Miss Redfield," Wesker said. His fingers momentarily tightened around her hair and he roughly lowered his mouth to her ear. "And I suggest that you don't bring up Chris again, especially as a comparison. If he is so much my better, then why are you here and not with him?" His voice ended the question tauntingly. "For two people who claim to be close, you keep a remarkable amount of important secrets from him." His grip returned to a gentle stroke as Claire felt the drugs affecting her system. He was right, even though she didn't want to admit it. "If Chris were infected," Wesker darkly mused, "he would gladly use his abilities to crush me. But you are the infected one, and so he would downplay your power…" Wesker left the thought to weave its own suggestions in Claire's mind.

She dreamt of waking to find herself in Raccoon City. Zombies surrounded her, and she ran only to discover a desire to join them in their feasting on the dead. She might have done so too, except for a blond man who kept pulling her away. He wrapped arms around her and kept her from hurting herself while Chris kept asking her what she was doing. Eventually she stopped struggling and lost recognition of her surroundings. A voice drifted over her. _Nothing will happen_.


	7. Chapter 7: Antaganism

Chapter 36: Antagonism

Claire sat up and shielded her eyes from the sunlight coming into the room. Wesker was gone, but she had expected that. She stepped out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen because it seemed like the logical thing to do. She was going to have breakfast like a normal person, or so she thought when she stepped onto the tile. She checked the cupboards again but found only noodles. _This sucks_. She heard someone coming downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Looking for something?" Wesker inquired. Claire could hear the smile in his voice before she spun around. He watched her irritated movements with amusement. Existence had been quiet and lacking in engagement since Claire had left. No one else would be going through his kitchen looking for snacks, and Claire had shown a real predilection for snacking. Actually, Wesker had never allowed anyone to stay at his home before, not that anyone would have wanted to had he offered.

"Do you have anything besides noodles?" Claire asked, slightly annoyed by the lack of options. Wesker gracefully leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Claire hated when he did that; it brought to mind how attractive he was. "Isn't there cereal or something?"

"I had not thought you would require options, dear heart," he answered. "Have you been eating since you died?"

"A little."

"And did things taste the same?" Claire stopped to think about that. She remembered eating cereal and how bland it had tasted. The sandwiches Chris had made her had also tasted plain. Wesker could see her answer on her face. "The virus amplifies survival skills like hearing and smell, but taste dulls and becomes less necessary. If you want to taste something distinct it either has to have an incredibly strong odor or high spice content."

"That's why you eat these spicy noodle bowls?" Claire asked. Wesker nodded. "Great, chocolate will never be the same." She hesitated a second and removed a bowl of noodles to test this theory. She popped it into the microwave and sat at the counter to wait. Wesker remained standing as he examined her neutral expression.

"What changes have you noticed, Claire?" he asked. "The virus will have acted differently in your system since you are such a unique case." Claire removed and began eating her noodles. She was pleased that they did have some desirable taste. Previously, she wouldn't have eaten something like this because the spice would have been too heavy for her taste buds.

"I can smell _everything_," she answered. "But I can hardly tell scents apart because there are so many of them. Then there's my hearing. I heard you coming upstairs last night, so soft noises are easy to make out, but loud noises hurt my ears. Sometimes it's hard to think when there are too many sounds. Other than that, my eyes hurt if bright light hits them at certain angles; food tastes dull; my blood is a strange; and my body heals quickly."

"Your blood is strange in what way?" Wesker continued. He sounded like the investigative scientist that he had started as in Umbrella.

"It's a darker red with a hint of purple…like Alexia's," Claire muttered.

"You run faster," Wesker added to her list. Claire looked up from her noodles in surprise.

"I do?" Wesker's head tilted slightly to the side.

"You haven't noticed? When you fled that lovely, little town in Russian, you moved faster than any normal man could. Have you noticed anything about your physical strength?" Claire shrugged as she threw out her empty noodle bowl.

"There are times when I have abnormal strength, but it's not always there." Wesker left the room and Claire followed him in curiosity. He moved to the fireplace and removed one of the prods. Claire had no idea what he had in mind, but she caught the metal rod when he tossed it to her.

"Break it," he ordered. Claire frowned and wrapped both hands around the bar. She exerted as much force as she could, but the metal did not budge.

"I can't," she answered. Wesker approached her slowly, like a cat about to pounce. She watched his controlled, flowing movements and warily stood her ground.

"Yes, you can," Wesker countered, and his voice left no room for argument.

"Wesker…" Claire suddenly found herself pressed into the wall with Wesker's right hand wrapped around her neck and squeezing her passageway. Claire struggled to breath and clawed at her hands, but Wesker emotionlessly considered her.

"You don't need to breath, Claire. You only think that you do." Claire didn't care as she struggled. Wesker withdrew her and then slammed her back into the wall, painfully smacking her spine. "Hmmm," Wesker mocked. "Maybe I miscalculated your potential. You are indeed no better than your pathetic brother or Steve, that other failure of a specimen. I should dispose of you now." Claire saw red with his harsh words, but Wesker was not satisfied with her level of anger yet. "Or I could release you to return to your brother, if he'll take in a tyrant, that is." That was the last straw. Claire stopped worrying about air and slammed her fist into Wesker's face so he would release her.

"You bastard!" she yelled as he flew backward into the couch. His broken glasses tumbled to the floor, and he looked up. Claire was leaning against the wall, wildly inhaling as her eyes shot enraged barbs toward his fallen form. This would not do. She was holding back. Wesker stood while making disapproving sounds with his tongue. He kicked his fallen shades to the side and lifted deadly, cold red eyes toward her apprehensive face.

"Now, _that_ I don't think I can tolerate." He took a step forward and Claire braced herself. "What, you don't want to take another swing at me, dear heart? Perhaps teach my arrogance a lesson?" Claire merely watched him and Wesker smugly smiled. "I guess that your hand needs to be forced if angering you won't work." Wesker dashed at Claire and lifted her by her collar. He easily swung her over his head and slammed her onto the floor, which creaked loudly in response. He landed an incredible punch to her gut that left her nerves screaming in pain.

Claire's body switched to survival mode with the fear that Wesker might kill her. She punched him across the face and sent him reeling to the side. She fluidly sprang to her feet and landed on top of him. Her legs straddled his sides while she hit him in the throat and heard Wesker gasp. No one had hit him hard enough for it to hurt or daze him in a long time. Claire's fist pulled backward to unleash her full power in a blow to his head, and Wesker readied himself to catch the swing; but it never came.

Claire's fist remained suspended as she breathed heavily and stared at Wesker. Something wasn't right; Wesker wasn't fighting back. Red and blue drilled into each other as Claire's body eased its tension. She blinked twice and her face morphed into shock.

"I was about to crush your skull," she stated in disgust. She quickly lowered her fist and her blue eyes softened to an incredible degree. "Oh my god." She scooted off of Wesker and went to sit on the couch. "You provoked me to see what I was capable of." Wesker sat beside her and crossed his legs.

"It was an expedient way to get to the point, but you were not using your full force. If you had, you would have collapsed my throat with that punch. Why, Claire? Do you have an aversion to killing?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. Claire lightly and grimly laughed and shook her head.

"You know that I've killed many creatures, and some people besides," Claire sighed. "I…I didn't really want to hurt you. Part of me knew that, even when angry. And it's harder to kill people." Wesker knew that would never do if she would work for him one day, but part of him was extremely satisfied with her answer. She had a strong sense of self that the virus could not corrupt, and she had revealed that her feelings toward him had not been destroyed with time. He had brought her here partly in an attempt to preserve those sentiments. It worked toward his advantage, but even if it hadn't, he was glad that Claire had not changed.

"Wesker," Claire commanded. "Don't do that again. I thought that you were going to kill me." Wesker chuckled.

"That was the general idea." Claire glared at him. "Dear heart, I would not have gone through with it, even if you had not given me what I wanted. I have no desire to hurt or kill you." Claire searched his relaxed expression.

"Does that mean that you want me to live or just that I'm more useful alive?" she pressed. Wesker leaned closer with a smile.

"Does the distinction mean much to you if you're alive?" he smirked. He could tell by her face that it did, and he inwardly reprimanded that openness that separated her from Umbrella's world of deception. She should have known better than to so freely admit that she cared about his opinion of her. "I'm still a bit attached, Claire." He would give her that. The comment pleased Claire, but she turned her eyes away from Wesker's intense face.

"We will test your strength again," Wesker stated. "It could be that some mental block is keeping you from utilizing it at will, or the virus may simply be restricted by your system. A few simple tests should answer that." Claire was resigned as she sunk into the couch.

"How is it different in you? I mean, do you have the same symptoms with your eyes?"

"Bright light irritates them," Wesker admitted. "Our physical strength is different, but I believe everything else is the same." He thought a moment. "My blood is still my prior color, and I've fully adapted. Soon you will forget that you ever had any difficulties with being infected." Claire nodded but did not like the idea. His phone rang with a plain, ordinary ring tone and he flipped it open.

"Yes?" His sharp tone would have made Claire squirm if it were directed toward her. "I'll be there in five minutes. Clean it up." He shut the phone and moved swiftly toward the door. "I'll return later." He was gone in a flash, and having looked irritated. Claire cringed. Wesker irritated meant trouble for someone, but, if it was an associate, she doubted that they were the type of person she should pity.

She stood, still feeling like her feathers were ruffled. Leave it to Wesker to completely disconcert her and then have her calming sitting on the couch with him. She went upstairs and entered the bedroom to rest. Her body felt slightly drained after the sudden show of force. She wondered if that would go away with time too. Wesker appeared to have no problems using his strength at will. If she could be as powerful as him…she shook her head. Maybe she could better fight against him in the future, and maybe she could help more people, but at what cost to herself?

She found Wesker's dark overcoat sitting on the back of a chair and lifted it. She sniffed it and immediately felt embarrassed. Wesker had his own unique scent, but it was different from what she had smelled on other people. It smelled more like…she looked for a comparison. Chris smelled unique, but in a crowd especially, she was aware that there was a similarity between him and other people. Wesker smelled more like her. The thought freaked her out as she placed the jacket down and flopped in the bed. Where he had been sitting for the night smelled like him too. What a bizarre thing to be aware of, she thought. She practiced making herself sleep while partly convinced that Wesker was nearby because of the scent of him about the room.


	8. Chapter 8: Progress Toward What?

Thanks for the reviews. I promise more action is on the way. Claire and Wesker will have a mess to clean up, some people to…well, you'll have to wait and see. lol . Intrigue is brewing.

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Chapter 37: Progress Toward What?

Claire sat on a chair in a sterile lab that's disinfectant scent nauseated her. She was blindfolded and calmly waiting for the test to begin, for she was well acquainted with the procedure after four days of coming to lab. She could hear Wesker unpacking items and spreading them over the table in front of her. Several of them had incredibly strong scents that competed with the disinfectant, and Claire was quickly unsure of what was around her.

"What do you smell?" Wesker asked.

"I don't know," Claire answered with some frustration. "Every time I try to focus on one scent, I get a strong whiff of something else. It blends together." Wesker was patiently standing in front of her and waiting. Between taking care of his own work, he had taken to training Claire, and he was glad for the distraction. His superiors were poking into his personal business, which tended to annoy him, and he couldn't risk them catching wind of Claire's condition. Caution was of the utmost importance, and so far he had succeeding in keeping Claire's presence here hidden. He watched her straining her nose and approved of the seriousness with which she treated this. She was a quick learner, but impatient with her progress.

"You're not trying hard enough. Concentration is the main issue, and your body has been altered long enough for your brain to be more adjusted." Claire took a deep breath to collect the scents and did as he instructed. "Begin whenever you're ready." She took her time working around the different scents. One was particularly familiar, and she went for that one first—a mellow scent and a bit fruity.

"Soap," she stated. "I smell some kind of fruity soap. Am I right?" Her hand itched to remove the blindfold, but Wesker tapped her wrist to remind her to stay in place. She refocused and sorted smells into categories. "Cinnamon," she continued. "Bleach. Latex gloves. Laundry detergent. Some type of cheese that I'm guessing I wouldn't like …" She was so focused that she did not pay attention to Wesker. He had been slowly walking until he was at her back. He moved very close to her, ready to remove the blindfold. His hand lifted toward her hair.

"Wesker," Claire stated.

"Hmmm?"

"Oh...um…" Claire didn't know what to say. Smelling people seemed really weird and borderline offensive. "You asked me what I smell, and…well, I smell you." Wesker was impressed. He could smell Claire when he was close to her, but his nose could not differentiate between people. Claire smelled like any other person would.

"You can tell differences between people?" he asked, curious.

"Yes," Claire reluctantly admitted. "Not at first. I mean; it took me days to figure out that Chris has a unique smell."

"Interesting."

"I smell the leather of your jacket too," she said. The door to the lab opened and someone stepped it. A new smell immediately assaulted her nose. "Coffee." Wesker removed her blindfold and Claire found herself looking at a man in a white lab coat and wrinkled dress shirt and pants. He was middle-aged with a sparse beard and brown eyes. A few lines creased his face, and he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He was casting the random assortment of objects on the lab table a confused expression.

"Hello," Claire greeted, but not warmly. She had too many bad experiences with Umbrella researchers to like or trust scientists.

"Can I help you with something, Dr. Daniels?" Wesker coolly inquired, but underneath the shades the redness of his eyes intensified with irritation. Claire was coming to realize that he reserved a more pointed, professional mannerism with his coworkers. His tone often sent a chill through the room. He was clearly the boss, but the other man was disinclined to back down as he answered.

"I was informed that you had arrived, and I was wondering whether or not you had any plans to use the secure hold on this level. If not, I'm claiming it for myself, but something was left rotting in there, and I want to ensure that no one has any uses for it before I have it cleared."

"I will be along momentarily to remove the mess," Wesker assured. The man just wanted an excuse to poke around his affairs, and Wesker knew it. He made a mental note to find out what Daniels was doing here. "Thank you, Dr. Daniels." He was lucky that Wesker did not consider him a threat, or he would have been removed over a decade ago. The man knew it and hated Wesker all the more because of it.

"Always a pleasure," Daniels responded. He motioned to Claire with his eyes, questioning Wesker as to her identity, but Wesker showed no response. The chilling aura pouring off of him clearly told Daniels that he had better leave. "I'll see you in a while then." The man left and Claire turned to watch Wesker opening a variety of windows on the computer. She wanted to know who Daniels was, but clearly Wesker wasn't going to pay her any attention if she asked. He was in one of his "moods" as far as she could tell.

"Dear heart, I want you to do the same thing you did before but with sound. Brace yourself." Claire was not prepared for him to turn the speakers on. He was easily playing several songs plus newscasts simultaneously. Claire groaned and screwed her eyes shut in pain. "Concentrate on the most pronounced one and then move to the weaker ones."

"I'm getting a headache," Claire complained. Several maddening minutes passed before Claire shook her head clear. "Some classical music, a lady talking about today's sunny weather…" The list went on, but Claire could not get the last two sounds. Eventually Wesker turned the computer off, much to Claire's excitement, and closed the windows. "That was horrible."

"But not as bad as in Russia," Wesker added.

"True." Claire was happy to feel some improvement.

"I'm going to clear up the issue with the holding cell. You may come with me or stay here." Claire jumped to her feet, for she was already sick of sitting in the lab. They'd been at the smelling and hearing tests for two hours. "You'll practice more later."

"Slave driver," Claire grumbled as they left the room, and the comment made Wesker smile. Claire felt overly self-conscious as several scientists passed them in the hall. She glanced upward at Wesker's chiseled features. That she should be accompanying him on business blew her mind. She was walking the halls of an old Umbrella lab at the side of her enemy by choice. At least no one would dare bother her since she had been seen with him. She couldn't help but wonder how this looked to other people, one of whom turned around to stare at their backs as they continued walking.

Déjà vu attacked Claire as they entered an observational room looking into a white cell splattered with old, cracking blood. A hunk of still decaying flesh lay crumpled at the room's center, the process having been slowed by a low, fixed temperature. Still, most of the creature was gone by now, and bones jutted out of what remained. Claire's gun had even been left where it had fallen. She walked to the window and beheld the work of her powers while a hand traveled to her neck to wrap around the dog tag.

Wesker was talking to Dr. Daniels, who had been waiting in the room and prepping the computers for his research. Claire didn't want to know what it was, and she didn't like that Wesker left her alone in the room with this man, because it made her feel obligated to make conversation. If even Wesker didn't like the guy, what did that say? Then she reasoned that Wesker didn't like Chris or Jill either, so his dislike wasn't saying anything. Perhaps Daniels wasn't so bad, and she was curious as to how he knew Wesker. She was always curious about Wesker's past since he never talked about it.

"Hello," Claire greeted after Wesker had left. Daniels briefly glanced up from his computer before returning to typing. "I'm Claire Redfield," she announced as she walked closer to him.

"Dr. Daniel Daniels," the man responded, and Claire smiled. "Blame it on my thoughtless parents," he explained. He moved to another machine and opened it to adjust a few knobs.

"Everyone around here is a workaholic, I take it," Claire commented as she watched him. He actually paused to give her an incredulous look before returning to work. "I take that as a yes." Wesker was in the next room with a biohazard bag and busy taking samples from the corpse.

"You work for Dr. Wesker?" Daniels asked.

"Not exactly," Claire safely responded. The man accepted it for what it was. In this type of job, secrets and vague answers were expected, and Wesker was known for keeping his work to himself. "Are you getting ready to use test subjects?" she tried to casually ask. She wanted to slap herself for sounding so warm about the topic.

"Hopefully I'll get started within the next few days. Come on, damn it!" he gently slapped the side of his machine, and Claire walked around the computer station to see what he was doing. "I don't suppose you know anything about computers?"

"Nope. Sorry. I can break them just by looking at them." The man continued fidgeting with wires, and Claire noticed that a large folder was sitting on top of the desk he was working at. It was probably his research notebook, but a photo of a smiling boy was stuck under the protective, plastic covering. His toothy grin cheered Claire's mood. "Is this your son? He's a cutie." The man took a break from the machine while muttering about maintenance and turned to her.

"My second one," the man proudly announced, and, for the first time, Claire felt like she was talking to a normal person with some personality. "You like kids?" He could tell that she did by the way she smiled at the photo.

"Can't you tell?" Claire joked. The man smiled.

"Yes, and it's a good way to judge people. It's a strange quality for someone who—Ah, Wesker," the man said, turning his attention to his colleague, who had just returned, bag in hand. "Thank you for getting rid of that." He and Wesker eyed each other coolly, and Claire had a feeling that there was a history here that she would like to pry into. "I was just speaking with Miss Redfield here, and perhaps the two of you would care to join my wife and I for dinner some time soon." Something unspoken passed between them, and it made Claire nervous.

"I have a busy schedule," Wesker stated. "But perhaps, Daniels. Claire, it's time we were going." Claire bid Dr. Daniels goodbye and joined Wesker in driving back to the house. She had just seated herself in the car when Wesker leaned across and leveled his eyes at her. "Watch yourself around my colleagues," he warned. Claire needed no explanation as they reached the house. It was early evening, and Claire wondered what they would do for the rest of the night. She walked for the door, but Wesker grabbed her hand to stop her. "This way, Claire. We're going to test your nose against more subtle smells."

They walked into the forest for about ten minutes before Wesker stopped. The evergreens encased them, and the rising moon cast them in shadow. Claire almost tripped over a branch, but Wesker caught her. His vision was much better than hers in the dark. Claire knew what she supposed to do as she began smelling and hearing. The world was not less complicated here, but less demanding on her given the softness of scents and noise. Wesker watched her face relax as she began processing her senses. She looked at peace, and he kept staring. The moonlight caught her blue eyes, and, for the first time, he detected the golden specks. They swirled throughout the blue and were prominent in this lighting.

"Crickets, frogs, branches moving, an owl," Claire counted off. "Sap, leaves, fungus, animal excrement, moss…" She subtly smiled. "Wesker." His smell as he stepped closer was either more prominent or her thinking made it so. She was unsure as he relaxed a hand around the back of her neck. "Wesker," she protested, but her body was not saying no. She had wondered whether or not their previous physical affection would return, for they never spoke of it, and the occurrences had been fleeting, like Wesker was testing the water. But for all that, she could not deny that she had grown attracted to him; she had somehow hoped that the depths of her attachment to him would never again be tested like this. _What the hell did you think would happen, Claire?_

"Relax," Wesker soothed. "I'm merely getting a better look at your eyes." He tilted Claire's head so that the moonlight more clearly reflected the gold. He was close, and Claire almost squirmed, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He was imposing and magnetic when he approached her like this, with his domineering nature but gentle manners. His touch sent warmth radiating across her skin, but the sensation was paired with the cold of the dog tag against her chest. He had given that man a tortuous death. "Quite exquisite," Wesker approvingly commented.

"I guess," Claire breathed as Wesker's red eyes shifted to her mouth. "Thanks for helping me, Wesker," she said and pulled away from him. "To everyone else my secret would be a horror." Wesker had felt the hesitation in her removal from his touch, and so he again stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her waist. She was drawn against him and watched him with frantic eyes.

"I'm glad that you're coming to terms with your condition," he said. "That's the first step." _First step toward what_? Claire distrusted the implication of a plan on his part, but she let him touch her again anyway.

"We're not corpses," she joked with a shaky smile.

"No, we're not, dear heart," he agreed with a smirk. "Far from it. You are a woman," his face was lowering to hers, "and I'm still a man." Damn the man and his smooth entrances. Claire let him kiss her, and she leaned into it halfheartedly. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, since she had allowed anyone to touch her for fear of losing them in her struggle. It occurred to her that Wesker was using her, but she told herself to shut up. Chris had Jill. Leon had Ada. Rebecca had Billy. Claire stopped herself short of even considering that she had Wesker. No one had Wesker. Damn, did he have her? What was she thinking? His lips pressed against hers and she was aware of nothing but his strength and scent. The world was Wesker. Slowly she disentangled her mouth from his and peered beneath his sunglasses.

"This is the cruelest thing you've ever done to me," she accused, having thought about his advances while free of him. Wesker would have asked her to elaborate, but she broke away and began walking back to the house. It was best to give her some space, he decided. He stayed at her side with a passive expression, but he was calculating the entire time. Claire was already tipping over the boundaries that she had once set for herself, and her eyes were surprisingly open given her little insight into his actions. It was quickly nearing the point of no return for Chris's sister, his better. Wesker awaited the day when Chris would be forced to see that and when Claire would realign her loyalties.

Wesker watched her practicing sleeping techniques that night before heading downstairs for a midnight run to the lab. Daniels had invited him to dinner? Wesker chuckled to himself. The fool that he could so easily set a trap, and the utter futility of his scheming boggled Wesker's mind. It was pathetic really. The man should have learned from the last time he had interfered. Wesker grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and swung it over his shoulders.

"I hate my body!" Claire yelled in exasperation from upstairs. Wesker smiled and wondered how much longer before her barriers broke down further. He was indeed still a man, and he recalled the feel of Claire against his lips. It had been a long time. Work was a major preoccupation. He decided that the gold in her blur eyes suited her. He chuckled as he paused to listen to her storm to the bathroom and slam the door for a shower. He knew that he was risking more unanticipated complications. They both were. The question was, would it aid his ambitions or not? And, if it didn't, what would he do with Claire Redfield?


	9. Chapter 9: Dinner Party

Chapter 38: Dinner Party

Claire sat propped against the sink in the bathroom, texting Chris. Her fingers worked over the keys happily. She would never risk calling Chris, lest Wesker overhear and decide to confiscate her phone, but texting seemed safe enough. She also instructed Chris to never text unless she texted him first, in case someone were to take her phone and read the messages. She didn't want Wesker to have personal communications or possible locations on Chris to use against him.

_R u finding what u wanted?_ She read Chris's message and sighed.

_Working on it, but things are getting better. How is Jill?_

_She's here. _

_Say hi_. Claire heard boots coming up the stairs. It seemed that the computer conference that Wesker had been involved in downstairs had ended. _Got 2 go. Luv_. She shut the phone, turned it off, and slid it into her pocket. She pretended to wash her hands and exited the bathroom. Wesker was standing at the top of the stairs with a stern expression. Apparently the meeting hadn't gone well.

"3 hours, Miss Redfield?" Claire smiled sheepishly. His eyes traveled to the bulge in her pocket. "How is Chris?" Claire huffed and held onto the pocket protectively.

"Busy blowing things up," she said, deathly afraid that he'd take the phone. She had decided to come here, but she knew too well that she was under Wesker's authority, even if he seemed relaxed. If he decided to take it, she wouldn't be able to stop him.

"We have work to do," Wesker said as he went to go back down the stairs.

"Wait," Claire questioned as she followed him. "Why are you letting me keep my phone?" Wesker didn't bother looking at her.

"What would you tell him? Our location? You have too much sense to do something so stupid, and there's nothing else I need to worry about you telling him." He was right, of course, but it still seemed very lenient of him. She could not see the cards Wesker was holding, but he was actually ensuring a greater degree of her trust by allowing her to keep the phone. It played its role as a symbol of good faith in their no-hostage agreement for the moment. He didn't want to take the phone. He wanted her to give it to him.

"So what are we doing today? We've done hearing and smelling tests for a week now." Wesker unlocked the car and pulled a sealed, opaque container from the trunk. It had a biohazard symbol on the side, and Claire's steps automatically slowed in response.

"A tolerance test," Wesker said while jiggling the container. "And then we'll move to physical tests."

"Please tell me that I don't have to run in an exercise wheel like a hamster." She noticed him moving toward the woods and trailed after him. "What kind of tolerance test is this? And why can't we do it at the lab?" Wesker declined to answer as he told her to wait while he moved ahead. Claire couldn't see him opening the box and removing a large, bloody hunk of flesh that he dumped onto the forest floor, but within seconds her nose knew about it. Her muscles tightened in fear of how her body would react. She could see the dead dog in the alley and again felt her stomach clench in disgust at what she had almost done, even as the bloody scent called to her. If she could only take one bite she would be happy…

"I'm not doing that again!" she boldly hollered, and she ran headlong in the opposite direction of the meat before she could change her mind. Wesker quickly repacked the flesh, sealed the container, and calmly walked back to the car. Claire had beaten him by a long shot and she stood at the downstairs window, watching him put the container in the trunk. Her arms were crossed when he entered the front door. "What the hell kind of tolerance test was that?" she demanded.

"Lose the attitude, Miss Redfield," Wesker darkly warned, as he intimidated her with his steady advance. Claire took a breath to calm herself. "Try again." He sounded like he was talking to a child, and it made Claire want to kick him, but at least he hadn't resorted to physical persuasion in a long time. She chided herself. There she went again, looking for the best in Wesker, looking for an upside.

"Why did you do that? You know how it affects me."

"Funny, because you ran in the opposite direction of what that assumption implies." Claire had to think about it. She had desired to go after the flesh, but it had revolted her more than it attracted. Wesker watched realization dawn and twisted his lips into a humorless smile. "The uncontrollable urge to eat dead matter was temporary in my experience; I was ensuring that you hadn't acquired a new taste that would prove most unpopular." Claire cast him an annoyed expression, which only made Wesker look more amused. "You passed the test, and now I suggest that you get dressed."

"Excuse me?" Claire looked at her sweat pants and black t-shirt in confusion.

"It's time for a true test, and that means outside of the lab. The Daniels are going into town for the evening, and we are going with them." Claire was floored, and she openly let her shock show. They were going out on the town for the night? If she hadn't been so shocked, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Wesker couldn't go out on the town; he was Wesker. He didn't do normal leisure activities. He smiled at her. "We leave in ten minutes."

Claire hurried upstairs and into the bedroom while wondering what was appropriate to wear. She didn't wonder long. A sleek, black and white dress was laid out on the bed with matching heels and jewelry. Claire fingered the smooth material. She would never be able to afford this on her own. She had never even worn anything this expensive, she was sure, and it was beautiful. Wesker had excellent taste.

She slid into the dress and admired its fit. It was a backless cocktail dress that clung in all the right places, and the bold white accents added that extra touch. It fell right to her ankles with a suggestive but tasteful slit up the side, and the black heels made her legs look even longer. She let her long hair loose over her shoulders and flipped it backwards over her head. Her fiery strands and the white amplified the gold and emerald necklace, bracelets, and dangling earrings. Claire thought that she looked quite flattering in the mirror, but she couldn't be sure. She wasn't used to dressing up or going "out on the town" in a manner that required such formal dress.

"Does everything fit?" Wesker inquired, and with a heavy dose of ego. He knew that everything fit, and he could tell by the way she'd been staring into the mirror that she was extremely pleased.

"Don't look so smug," Claire frowned, but she couldn't hold it against him, not right now. This was a wonderful break from tests and otherwise boredom while Wesker worked. "Thank you." Wesker was wearing black slacks, a black dress shirt, and a black suit jacket. His sunglasses were firmly in place. "Do you own anything of a different color?" Claire couldn't help but tease. It seemed to her that on this night she could have everything. She could feel for Wesker but not betray Chris; she could fight biohazards but have dinner with her enemy. It was as contradictory as life could get, and the more she realized that, the more her mood took a dive.

"Dear heart, it's dinner," Wesker said, as if he read her thoughts. "You're not selling your soul to the devil, so do yourself a favor and forget whatever moral scruples are bothering you." Claire smiled and they were soon driving back toward civilization. Before they left, Wesker glanced to the side of the house, where a shadowy figure stood, waiting to play his part. Wesker acknowledged the figure without stirring Claire's suspicions. She admitted that she was excited and struggling with her sentiments at the same time. She looked at Wesker as he drove, ever the confident, solitary figure.

"Dr. Daniels doesn't like you, does he? Why, besides the obvious that you're you?" she asked. Wesker glanced at her and she smiled sweetly.

"We competed under a Dr. Marcus, if you're so interested, and he's convinced that I sabotaged his work. Since then, he's constantly been after my research." Claire rolled her eyes, but she was thrilled that Wesker was being talkative.

"How typical of you people. So why are we going to dinner with him?"

"You have been asking questions as if we are allies, Miss Redfield," Wesker cautioned. "And we are not. Just enjoy the evening and watch your tongue. You do not want men like Daniels to find out that you're infected." Daniels had also transferred to HFC, which basically ran the old Umbrella resort labs now that the original company had crumbled. They had a vested interest in using Umbrella's research facilities and data without putting their name on the label for protection's sake, but Claire was ignorant of the inner workings behind the new bioweapon powers. She only needed to know that discretion was necessary.

"So what exactly are we going as?" Claire asked. "What am I supposed to tell them about us?" Wesker smiled sadistically, and Claire knew that she wasn't going to like what was coming.

"You are an acquaintance, and based on how we appear, they can draw their own conclusions. If they start asking questions, use that wonderful bluffing ability of yours." Their drive continued for some time until they entered a small city. Wesker pulled up to an elegant, curved structure and a valet rushed forward to park the car. Wesker played a perfect gentleman as he offered Claire his arm. She looped her arm through his and hid her troubled expression. It felt good to be on Wesker's arm. She faltered in her heels and was kept upright only by Wesker's arm.

"Inexperienced, dear heart?" he mocked, and Claire glowered at him.

"My idea of going out for the evening involves jeans and beer," she curtly replied, and Wesker smiled down at her with disarming charm. She fidgeted with her dress before they fully stepped inside.

"Play your part well, dear heart." This was a test for her as much as it was an opportunity for him. Daniels wanted to get at Wesker's research while he was here, but Wesker had beaten him to the punch. Whoever Daniels had involved in his scheme to exploit Wesker's absence would meet a bloody end, and it was Daniels research that would be rifled, not his. Wesker didn't need the fool's inferior research, but he wanted to send a message. Anyone who got in his way would be removed. It had been a blessing to be removed from petty politics immediately after he died. As much as manipulating others entertained him, he did not like wasting his time on pests. He wouldn't have bothered sending a weakling like Daniels a message at all had this not been a chance to see Claire in action.

He coldly greeted the people already seated at their table with a nod. The parents had brought their two boys. He already knew that Claire was excellent with kids, but he had yet to see her match off against someone as self-aware as Daniels or his wife. They were veterans in this business, and not without their own tactics. Daniels would try to weasel information from Claire if he could. Wesker smiled coldly. He was anxious to see how Claire could manipulate these two and weave lies on the fly.

"Good evening!" Claire cheerfully greeted with a winning smile. It was an honest smile that would have won over anyone. She was naturally likable but could turn into the aggressor, and that was an asset. As she brushed hair over her shoulders and glanced warmly at Wesker, he knew that he had found a possible splendor of a networker in Claire. She had already slipped into her role. With a little polishing she would be Ada's better in persuasion and undercover work; plus she was one hell of a fighter and superhuman to top it off. Claire picked up the menu and cursed lightly under her breath.

"Damn." Wesker met her eyes, and he knew what the problem was. The menu was in French. He smirked. Perhaps the evening would also be highly entertaining.


	10. Chapter 10: Alby Dearest

Chapter 39: Alby Dearest

He peered through the thermal binoculars and searched the area outside of the house. Nothing. He lowered them and casually waited, glancing at his watch. He had better get started. Daniels had said that Wesker wouldn't stay away long, and he had to search the house and the lab. He swiftly began descending the hill toward the backdoor. No sound issued from his boot steps. He assumed that he was alone, but he should have listened more closely to Daniels's warning about Wesker's astuteness. He laid a hand against the gun at his waist and reached for the back door. Inside, on the porch, a dark figure sat in the shadows and waited.

*****************

_French? French! What the hell? _

Claire relaxed and did her best to keep from blushing in embarrassment. Wesker was smiling at her predicament, the bastard.

"See anything you like, Claire?" Oh, she was going to kill him, but _after_ he paid for her dinner. Claire smiled at him and said not yet. If he wanted to play with her, let him try. Bring it on.

"Thank you for inviting us out," Claire said with a smile toward the other woman present. "Albert tends to get carried away with work, and I'm not much better." Wesker arched his eyebrows in amusement at Claire's comment. Where was little, Miss Bluffer going to go with her presentation?

"You have found yourself a lovely lady, Albert," Daniels's wife, Michelle, exclaimed. Claire nearly choked on her water but quickly regained composure. Damn. She knew that she should've used a fake name. If word got around that Wesker was with a Claire Redfield…Claire wanted to smack herself, or, better yet, slap Wesker.

"Yes," Wesker dryly commented. "Although it might be more appropriate to say that I stole rather than found her." Because of the sunglasses, he appeared to be looking at their hosts, but behind the shades his eyes were fixed on Claire. She was brushing hair off of her shoulder and eyeing him coldly, but he couldn't resist having some fun at her expense. It was the only thing making this dinner bearable.

"Are you here on business?" Michelle asked Claire. The older female was a pretty, but shrewd woman who managed her husband's occupation with grace. Two children were seated at the table, both young boys. One looked six, the other about eleven. They were very well behaved and politely keeping quiet while the adults conversed.

"Mostly," she answered. "Albert and I are acquaintances, and we're here for a short stay until our business is completed." She'd be damned if she let these people walk away thinking that she was romantically involved with Wesker. Claire took a sip from her glass and smoothly crossed her legs. For someone who had never been to such an upscale restaurant, Claire was gracefully blending in, and her little jabs were only apparent to Wesker.

"But fond acquaintances, I assume?" Michelle encouraged. She glanced at Wesker, who she had never seen spend time with any woman or go out to dinners. Claire internally faltered but appeared collected on the outside. She was fond of Wesker, but saying it in public almost seemed forbidden. She expected a lightning bolt to strike her dead for proclaiming something like that. More likely she'd be struck down by Wesker's arrogant expectation of the admission.

"We work together," Claire emphasized. "But it's not burdensome."

"Sounds like more than business to me," Daniels joked. He would be interested to confirm that Claire was Wesker's…he wasn't sure what term to use. Girlfriend implied a certain relationship, and he couldn't see Wesker involved in that, but he could see Wesker temporarily keeping someone around if she weren't a liability. His fist clenched beneath the table. Wesker had threatened to kill his wife when they were much younger in order to keep Marcus's murder a secret from other employees.

Claire seemed so unlike her companion. He decided that was the correct term to use: companion. Perhaps she was ignorant of what Wesker did and how easily he did it, but Daniels would probably never know. What he did know was that Claire had suddenly become an interesting prospect for information and as a target. He would have assumed that the now blushing woman worked for Wesker, because that was the most logical conclusion for her being here, but she didn't seem suited for such a role. Good lord, she was seriously blushing. Could someone actually like Wesker? He scoffed at the implausibility. He'd report this to his superiors.

"I…oh…" Claire fumbled. She couldn't even look at Wesker given the current conversation. "Okay. Maybe I have a soft spot for him," she admitted. "But he's a hard sell."

"So you are fond of him," Michelle laughed good-naturedly.

"I suppose," Claire grumbled.

"Albert, you're a lucky man," Michelle stated. _And you don't deserve such a decent looking woman_, she mentally added. _I hope Claire doesn't regret this one day_. But she was sure that Wesker would dispose of the girl in due time. Wesker was completely neutral in his expression as he watched Claire, and she was confused by his lack of smugness over her situation. He was simply watching her and considering her words. Claire turned away from him with an unsure smile. The entire situation was surreal, with the fancy setting and casual conversation. Being in public with him really was uncomfortable.

"On a less personal not, the scenery is stunning." The two women immediately dove into a discussion on the landscape and how much the children loved it. Wesker watched Daniels from the corner of his eyes, and Daniels studied Claire in turn. Wesker could see his brain spinning and making conjectures, but he discarded whatever they might be as nonsense. A waiter approached and began taking orders, and Claire was mortified that even the children ordered in perfect French. Her turn came, and she seamlessly turned to Wesker.

"Albert, you know my tastes and have been here before. Please choose something you think will suit me." Wesker smiled and placed an order for her as she busied herself with the children. She was playing "I spy" with them, and by the time food arrived, she even had Daniels laughing at her jokes. The children clearly loved her, and Claire kept the mood light as a plate of something gray was set in front of her. She questioningly stared at it and avoided Wesker, who was watching her in amusement. Claire sniffed the food. It smelled like meat, but not really, more like…an organ? She soon discovered that calf brain was sitting on her plate.

No! No! A thousand times no. There was no way that she was going to eat brain. She was really going to kill that man. It was a good thing that he couldn't die, because she planned to make him suffer a long time before she was through with him. The prick was trying to annoy her. This would not stand. She reflected that the familiarity between her and Wesker was making her bold, and it could end up working for her or causing trouble. She took the risk. She leaned across the table and gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Alby, you're awfully quiet," she softly spoke, but she was sure that everyone had heard her. She had to focus in order not to laugh. If anyone had ever called Albert Wesker Alby, she would hang herself. Of course it was a silly retaliation, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction, and Daniels certainly looked stunned. Wesker was forced to be amiable as he replied, and familiarity had made him less likely to aggressively reprimand her. He glanced at his watch. Good. Plenty of time had passed for the job to be finished. They would excuse themselves soon. Claire was lazily smiling at him, and he smirked back.

She had done well. She was smooth and could carefully direct conversation while acting like she was confidently comfortable when she wasn't. Yes, a little fine-tuning and Claire would be an all-around player—an accomplice. As they stood to leave, he took Claire's arm and guided her toward the door.

"You do not disappoint, dear heart," he complimented.

"Naturally, Alby."

"I suggest that you don't continue using that name, as endearing as it is."

"Everyone else seemed to think it was cute."

"Everyone except the one that matters on the issue."

"Yes, Mr. Ego." He squeezed her arm in warning, but there was no malice behind it. He was rather enjoying this banter, as he had come to appreciate it quite some time ago. Claire was doing her best not to smile at him as the car was brought forward, but she had already said it all. She was fond of him. He smirked. That was different than merely being "attached". She slipped into the car and immediately removed the heels to massage her tender feet. _Dear heart, I am fond of you too_.

**************

He hacked into the computer and downloaded Daniels's files as he continually glanced at the clock. He had time to spare. He was a professional and patient. A cardboard box rested by his feet, and inside, wrapped in a sheet of plastic, was a bloody stump of a head. The man snorted in contempt for the mess he had left in the woods behind Wesker's house. Daniels's man should have been more careful. The fool had even attempted to run. Asinine. And there had been the hassle of dragging the man outside alive to finish the job properly, for Wesker was firm on not making a mess in the house.

The file was finished and he set the cardboard box next to Daniels's computer. The scientist would get a rude message in the morning. If he valued his life, he'd keep his mind on his own work. The head sat on the counter, where blood seeped through the cardboard throughout the night to leave red residue across the lab table.

Meanwhile, a car pulled into the driveway outside Wesker's house and Claire stepped into the night air. Her nose grew agitated. It was a familiar scent—coppery, delicious, and pungent. She glanced at Wesker but kept her mouth shut. Maybe an animal had met its end. Wesker couldn't have agreed more.


	11. Chapter 11: Easy Candor

Okay everyone, here is the next chapter. Don't get too excited, because I might not update for several days. I've got papers due this week. Enjoy!

_______________

Chapter 40: Easy Candor

Wesker held his phone to his ear and listened to the report. The job had been executed perfectly, but he wasn't taking chances with Daniels. He turned and saw Claire at the window, looking out at him.

"Keep an eye on Daniels for a few days. See who he contacts, if anyone, and record the conversations, if possible," Wesker ordered. "I take it you found your money?"

"Naturally. It's been a pleasure doing business." Wesker turned the phone off and moved toward the house. The man he had hired was skilled and completely dedicated to finishing jobs without being nosy. It was hard to find good help these days, but things were looking promising. He had been investing time with very promising connections within an African-based company. Before long, it would be time to move, but there were loose ends to tie, and, of course, the situation with Claire to finish. Little did he know that his endeavors in Africa would bring him into collision with the other Redfield.

He stepped inside, and Claire was already moving up the stairs. The dress accentuated her hips beautifully, Wesker decided. When she noticed that he was following her into the bedroom, she took her clothing to the bathroom to change. He smirked and loosened his sleeve cuffs.

"Did you enjoy yourself, dear heart?" he asked. Claire emerged from the bathroom in sweatpants, t-shirt, and stunning jewelry. She brushed passed him.

"Yes and no," she answered. "The dress was great; the food was lacking. I'll stick with my pizza and beer." Wesker smiled and removed his jacket as Claire carefully hung and smoother her dress. "The menu was a dirty trick."

"You left the decision to me," Wesker smiled. Claire's eyes lingered on his body as she reached for her earrings. "Allow me." Wesker stood behind her and unfastened her necklace. It was like a scene out of the old TV shows, where the husband and wife were getting ready for bed. Claire scoffed at the comparison, but it was a funny image.

"Thanks for…taking me out," Claire ventured. "And for the outfit."

"You wore it well, and you played the game tonight beautifully." Wesker's hands were on her waist and spinning her to face him. His hands remained on her hips, and a wave of attraction jolted Claire's body as he looked down at her.

"It wasn't difficult. I've been playing games like that for forever. I had to learn to play parts when my relatives took me and Chris in. Who I had to pretend to be and who I was never matched with them, but I don't like faking it. I never have, and…well, you know how my tongue gets me in trouble." She pulled away from him and moved to the nightstand to put the jewelry case inside. "And I wasn't being that deceptive," she emphasized. "That was mostly me tonight except for a few fibs."

"The best liars lie as little as possible," Wesker explained. "They use honesty and half-truths to weave illusions and suggestions. Very seldom do they outright lie." Warning sirens were spinning in Claire's head. "That's why you were so winning. If I hadn't been there, the Daniels' trust would have belonged to you." Claire spun while fastening the dog tags around her neck, and Wesker stared at her questioningly.

"A reminder," she stated. "Of what I fight against." The steel in her eyes challenged Wesker to test her resolve, but he didn't. He swept over the issue as Claire climbed into bed. He inwardly approved her step with respect. That defiance of hers was always lurking right beneath the surface. He removed his shoes, then his shirt. Bare-chested, he pulled his belt free and glanced at Claire. She was gripping the sheets and nervously gaping at him. His hand reached for his pants, and he could almost hear Claire's knuckles crunching in trepidation. He smirked, stopped, and turned off the lights. He strode forward and lifted the blankets.

"There is another bedroom," Claire roughly pointed out.

"Yes, but this one is mine."

"So that's why the closet is filled with female clothing," Claire dryly commented. "That makes sense." Wesker slipped under the blankets and made himself comfortable. She was right, he thought. Her clothing was in the closet. Her jewelry was in the drawers. Her books sat on the desk. She even had a side of the bed chosen. When exactly had this turned into her room? Wesker only needed to know that it was _he_ who had allowed it to happen and not her forced entry. They laid quietly until Claire sighed and shifted in discomfort.

"What's wrong, Claire?" She had been bubbly all evening.

"Their kids will suffer one day due to the parents' affiliations," Claire sadly said as she thought of the Daniels family. Wesker recalled how tenderly Claire handled children and wondered if it had something to do with her own abuse as a kid. She had especially been kind toward Missy, and then he remembered her question on pregnancy from their winter together.

"You've always wanted children and a family," Wesker stated. Claire breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

"Not anymore," she relented. "It would have been difficult before, and now—now it doesn't matter with what's happened to me." Wesker could easily see Claire as a mother.

"Claire, I've never researched our reproductive capabilities. It is possible that you're still fertile," he clinically informed. "Your eggs would need to be tested to be sure."

"I doubt it would be a good idea," Claire bitterly muttered.

"You're scared that the baby would be abnormal or that you'd be a bad mother?" Wesker asked her. He was surprised by her concerns given her bravery in everything else. He had not seen this side of Claire, and it made him curious.

"It would be infected with a virus that mutates and kills most people; of course I'm afraid of how the child would turn out. And what if it was noticeably different? It could never have a normal life. As for the mother thing, I know that I'd be a good mother if I didn't have people like you to fight against." She sounded angry by the last line, and undoubtedly she was at the time, but Wesker knew that she didn't hold it against him.

"I wouldn't discount your chances of being a mother and not try because of fear, if it's what you want. Risks are part of doing anything worthwhile, but children are vulnerability in this line of work. Why do you want to open yourself to that?"

"It's sentimental," Claire warned.

"I still want to hear your explanation."

"Having a family has just always attracted me. I've always liked children, and I like feeling that I belong somewhere. I haven't felt that way since the anti-Umbrella team dispersed, and family means never being alone. Someone is always there for the best and worst times, like Chris and me. He'd make a great uncle…Maybe one day, if I find someone who accepts my secret…" But she wondered who would ever want a tyrant. "Oh, and someone who won't get killed in a biohazard," she tried to joke. "Chris is lucky that he has Jill. I mean, damn, she even knows how to use bazookas." She rolled over to face Wesker and shook her head. "Ignore my ramblings. I just hate being alone."

Wesker was silent and watching the ceiling. Being infected made Claire feel even more isolated, but with Wesker the feeling had lessened. She didn't need to walk around feeling like she was different. There was one advantage to the man. Claire gently laughed as she noticed that Wesker's shades were still on.

"The guy who seated us was really annoyed that you insisted on wearing the sunglasses," she recalled. "I thought he might try and take them, and you'd break his face." She grinned. "You're still wearing them."

"I offended his sensibilities, didn't I?" Wesker smirked. He removed the glasses to expose his red eyes. Claire stared into them and sadly tilted her head. Unlike her, Wesker had no chance of every fully blending in with humans again. He read her expression easily. She didn't even try to hide her emotions most of the time anymore.

"Just because we're different doesn't mean there's nothing for us," Wesker reminded her. "We have better options. With power, you can do anything." Claire involuntarily leaned closer toward his calming scent. "Don't lower yourself by trying to go back to your old life."

Claire knew that Wesker would think something like that. He fed on the fear of others, and he loved knowing that he could have them at his feet in a moment. She really did pity the lonely and objective way he approached life, and then she counted the total number of weeks that they had been together. His lifestyle had been flipped on its head lately, and she was proud to have caused it. He wasn't an impenetrable fortress of ice. Maybe whatever she kept feeling toward him—the concern, fondness, and attraction—was less one sided than she had previously believed. He felt something for her; she was sure of it, but she knew that he also had an agenda. Maybe he wasn't able to disentangle the two because of who and what he was. His goals loomed over and swallowed everything else that he might have been.

"You don't understand, Wesker," she softly said. "Power is overrated. You treat it like it's everything, but it's nothing but a common vice. Maybe part of you knows that. Maybe that's why I'm still here." Claire turned away and closed her eyes. She slowed her heart rate and loosened her muscles. It wasn't long before she managed to slip into sleep, but Wesker remained awake.

He could have gladly stayed where he was, for he would have favored resting. He hadn't trusted anyone enough to sleep near them like this in years. As he watched Claire's chest rise and fall, his body relaxed and eased into a languid mood rare to his nature. His eyes reflected the contentment that he felt as he poured over Claire's words. So she did know that she was here for more than professional reasons. She had been so at ease in his presence today. He was tempted to stay where he was beside her, but he couldn't allow himself to do so. His life was not about being content or, as Claire had once asked him, being happy. It was about his hunger for progress and control that would lead to his ascension to power.

He took Claire's cell phone and moved downstairs. It was time to take a jab at Chris and push Claire closer to his cause. She was ready for it now that she had adjusted to her circumstances. _Claire_. She would be the ultimate partner—one with all the necessary attributes for the execution of his plans, but still a woman who cared, still one hundred percent Claire Redfield. He opened his computer and connected it to the cell phone. His finger paused over the enter key that would send the call. Chris and Claire had a strong bond. She would do almost anything for her brother, and Wesker grew annoyed with Chris at the thought, even as he admired their clear dedication.

Most people were too flimsy to care about loyalties, and it wasn't because they calculated their alliances like he did; they were merely weak willed. Maybe, one day, Claire's connection to him would give him her close loyalty. He knew that he had crossed a line when he hit the enter key with a vicious intent to sever the siblings. It wasn't about hurting Chris, as it had been when he had first thought of kidnapping Claire over the past summer. He did not want Chris to have what could be his. That he had to compete with Chris over this irked him to no end. He did not care to hurt Claire, but he thought that it was necessary to fully pull her onto his side. Then she would join him. Her barriers would crumble and she would become the one person that he might be able to trust. Trust. He wondered if he was even capable of that. He doubted it; it was idiotic to trust. As the computer processed his call, he imagined his associates seeing Claire and thinking of her as his closest assistant. The idea sent a wave of satisfaction through his mind.

"Hello?" a voice asked over the computer. Wesker smiled. It was going to be an interesting night.


	12. Chapter 12: Honesty

Thanks for the reviews. They've given me some things to consider and think about as I continue writing. Thanks everyone. Sometimes you bring up concepts that I haven't considered, and I'm listening. I should be writing a history paper right now…oh well. Here's what resulted from me taking a break.

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Chapter 41: Honesty

"Hello?" Chris asked.

"Good evening, Chris," Wesker coldly greeted. "I trust your life is going well."

"Believe me, it is, _Wesker_," Chris bit back. "I find myself killing your friends almost daily. Why the hell are you calling?" Chris couldn't fathom any reason as Wesker smiled to himself and lounged further into his chair.

"I merely wanted to check in and see how you're doing," Wesker innocently answered. Chris snorted derisively through the computer speakers. "And how is your beautiful sister? Oh, I forgot; she's no longer with you." He could imagine Chris's knuckles cracking in frustration. The joys of baiting his enemy were boundless.

"Who says she's not here?" Chris demanded.

"I have my sources, Chris."

"Wherever she is, she's handling herself. That's all you need to know. You keep your hands off of her, Wesker, or I'll break every bone in your body. Just because you don't die doesn't mean that you can't feel pain." Wesker chuckled.

"The typical threats," he mused. "I was expecting that, but I will promise to not lay so much as a finger on your sister without her consent." It was tempting to explain just how true that phrase was, but that would need to wait until later.

"Why are you calling, Wesker?" Chris violently demanded. "Claire has nothing to do with us, so leave her out of it."

"That does present a problem, because, you see, Chris, I can't do that," Wesker dramatically sighed and loved the effect that it would have on Chris. "She's infected with Alexia's virus, if you didn't know."

"She's fine," Chris ground out.

"No, she's like me," Wesker corrected. "She's a tyrant."

"My sister is not a tyrant, Wesker!" Chris scoffed. "So you know she's infected, so what? She doesn't have any symptoms. She hasn't turned into a freak like you. Check out her eyes; they're still the same. She's still the same. Don't you ever dare compare her to a biological fuck-up like you." Wesker grinned. Chris was making this too easy. This was beyond perfect. "She's not a tyrant. She just has a minor infection." On the other end, Chris stood with tense muscles. He was offended beyond belief that Wesker would relate Claire to him.

"Calm down, Chris," Wesker admonished. "You really ought to appreciate what she's become rather than attack her." Chris sucked in his breath in anger. He was not attacking Claire; he was attacking Wesker, but the bastard kept talking so that he couldn't cut in. "It's a small wonder that she left you, and, really Chris, you should watch your temper. Lovely Claire is on her own," Wesker posed. "Maybe she would care for some assistance and guidance. I may find a bit of charity in myself."

"You think that Claire will accept your help?" Chris mocking laughed. "Get real, Wesker. Did the virus make you mental? Claire would never side with you, never."

"And if she did? Why isn't she with you, Chris?"

"Wesker, I don't know what you're playing at, but stay away from Claire. She wouldn't betray me, and if you somehow manipulated her into trusting you, I'd make sure to prolong your death that much longer." But Chris wondered why Wesker was bringing up this topic. If Claire betrayed him for Wesker? It was impossible.

"Maybe I'll stop by your apartment some day to call on her, just to make sure," Wesker teased. Chris was fed up with his sarcasm.

"Sorry, I have a no-tyrants policy," he spat. "I'll shoot on sight." Wesker almost gave a full-throated laugh as he reached for his keyboard.

"That's all I needed, Chris. Until next time…" He punched the key and terminated the phone call. He checked the time. Claire would be awake in several hours. That gave him plenty of time. He opened a sound-editing program and the recorded conversation. A little rearrangements and tweaking were the only thing separating him from concluding his task.

It had been a long time since he had exerted such manipulative force on Claire, and he would have preferred to not use such measures anymore. He had kept it to a minimum in their daily life, even if the larger scheme was to draw her in. Some, even most days since her return, were devoid of cunning. This current move was the most expedient though. Claire might come to him knowing that he had alternative reasons, but she would not hesitate to go her own way if she knew the extent of them. That was how his world worked—how it had been working since he was a young man. Cloak and dagger. Once he had his power, he would need to be even more careful to guard his accomplishments.

Claire would loathe his acceptance of that, he mused. For a second, concern hit him. Claire trusted, hoped, and felt for him, defying everything that he had ever done to her because of how connected they were. If his plan backfired, he could lose that. There was something supremely calming in knowing that she was here by choice and developing feelings for him. He would have thought that his life had gone beyond the possibility of that, unless the person was deluded and naive. Claire was neither.

He had never even considered that he might want a companion before, but here he was, doing his best to ensure that she was his. Life was more interesting with Claire around. Her witty comebacks and simple, kind gestures threw entertainment and gentleness into the mix, and anyway, it would be dangerous to let her powerful rebirth fall into his enemies' hands. He could also not ignore the increasing amount of personal value that she was coming to have in his existence, but he could do without her—easily, he reminded himself. She was not necessary to his plans. He could even kill her, if the need arose, but Wesker would prevent such a need from happening in order to spare her. Requiring someone and desiring their company were different things, but both were compelling in their own right. _Control the situation_, he told himself. He brushed his concerns away. If his plan backfired, he would make another one and repair the damage. Defeat was not something that he ever accepted.

************

"Good morning," Claire greeted as she descended the stairs. "I'm surprised that you're not at lab." He was usually gone by now and came back to get her later in the day. Instead he sat on the couch with his computer propped open. Claire did not miss seeing her pink phone sitting beside his laptop. Her footsteps slowed. "What were you doing with my phone?" she cautiously asked.

"I thought Chris would appreciate hearing from me," Wesker stated sarcastically. Claire's face had paled, and she stood paralyzed.

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing incriminating—or, rather, nothing incriminating that Chris will pick up on. Relax, dear heart. I did not call with your phone. Chris does not know that you're here. I was merely expressing my interest in you." Claire's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She hated when he drug Chris into their agreements.

"And what did Chris say?"

"Would you like to hear for yourself?" Wesker's blank face meant trouble to Claire. She didn't know what he had done, but it couldn't be good if it dealt with her infection. Despite her misgivings, her curiosity demanded that she move closer and listen as Wesker clicked a few keys. "Are you sure that you want to hear this?" he softly questioned. "I'm afraid that it may trouble you."

"Just play it," Claire stiffly ordered. Wesker inwardly smiled as the edited recording began. The entire time it played, he watched Claire's face grow more and more distressed and pained. He had the urge to reach a hand out and cup her face. The gesture had started out as a play of comfort against his cold side that confused and broke captives, but the action was so automatic now that his hand would have thoughtlessly touched her.

_"And if she did? Why isn't she with you Chris?"_

_"Sorry, I have a no tyrants policy. I'll shoot on sight."_

As the recording ended, Claire backed away from the computer with watering eyes. Chris would shoot her if she were with Wesker? He wouldn't accept what she had become? He had sounded so cruel about her condition. Dear lord, if he found out that she had been with Wesker this entire time…_She wouldn't betray me_. Claire couldn't even speak as she dwelled on his words. She screamed apologies to Chris over and over again in her head, but the pain of his words about her being a biological freak rubbed her raw. She had wanted to learn to control her condition so that Chris wouldn't have problems accepting her. She was doing this for the team, but part of her knew there were other reasons. She had been well enough to leave for several days now.

"Dear heart," Wesker soothed while standing and approaching her. "I assure you that nothing he said has merit." Claire knew that he was going to try and comfort her, and she craved his arms. Even his scent as he got closer triggered a sense of security in her mental associations. She shook her head and held up a hand as if to tell him to stop. He paused and watched her wipe her eyes.

"He couldn't have meant what he said," Claire protested. "Chris has never treated me like that, and I mean never." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I'm his sister…" She needed a tissue but made do with sniffing. Wesker's arms were around her in an instant. She was against his chest and felt it rise and fall against her in a relaxing rhythm.

"Claire, your brother's grudge runs too deep for him to see me as anything more than a monster," Wesker almost whispered against her hair. "He'll never realize it, but you've made the best decision to come with me." The words were kind, but the tone was neutral. Even Claire could not read him well enough, with his carefully guarded expressions, to tell what it meant. He sounded genuine. His touch was so smooth and gentle. Claire leaned into his chest and closed her eyes.

Chris had rejected her. That's what her mind was telling her, but her heart said the opposite. _Claire, you really do trust him, and things have changed, but it's still Wesker._ Her eyes snapped open. Gosh, she had blindly believed Wesker's evidence. Chris had never left her, even at her worse. He had taken the news of her infection well and begged her to come home. He would not turn his back on her now, and he _had_ been talking to a man expert in rousing his fire. Her eyes continued to water, but for a different reason now. Wesker had tried to cloud her judgment again. How many times would she fall for it? She cursed herself for being the way that she was, but, as Wesker buried a hand in her hair and pulled her closer, she could not bring herself to reject his arms. There was something genuine here beneath the fabrication that he had played.

"If Chris doesn't want you," Wesker commented. "It's his own foolish loss. You can stay here as long as you like, Claire. I won't turn you out." Claire's heart ached to believe him. And then she questioned why Wesker would make the offer. He had mentioned her working for him one day, but she had always refused because she fought against him. She stiffened in his arms, alerting Wesker to her unease. She had told him that she'd return to Chris, and out of the blue Wesker had called Chris and now it seemed that she couldn't return. She removed his arms and stepped away from him. He never did anything without purpose.

"You're trying to make sure that I stay and don't go back to Chris," Claire roughly threw at him.

"Claire."

"No!" Claire cut off. "You made Chris angry enough to say those things. Maybe you edited the call. I don't know, but that was not the true Chris speaking. Unlike you, he can't sever his ties so quickly, not to someone he loves. I know Chris better than that." Claire faced Wesker with hurting eyes. It was the second time that she felt utterly betrayed by him, but part of her remained independent of her inflamed spirit, and its contemplations fanned outward to cool her temper. If Wesker had tried to destroy her ties to Chris, it was because he wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay.

"Why do you want me here, Wesker?" she demanded. Wesker remained silent as they stared each other down. Claire sighed, and with it her fire snuffed out. "Did you think that you would push me to completely trust you by doing this? You should know that I won't work for you by now, but…if it was my decision to stay that you wanted…" She bit her lower lip and released it. "Wesker, I know that you want me here for more than work, or I think I do. I really don't know you. You're still a mystery, but you just made a huge mistake."

"I considered it a worthy gamble," Wesker claimed. There was no use denying it, not when Claire so adamantly and thoroughly bashed his attempt. "My mistake was underestimating your misplaced faith in Chris."

"No, it wasn't," Claire countered. Wesker eyed her with interest. She wasn't yelling or trying to hurt him. She was calmly speaking with him, and she was not moving toward the door to leave. "You could have had my trust without any manipulation."

"It would have taken longer," Wesker replied. She'd been developing feelings for him, but alone, they wouldn't lead her at the expense of fighting his cause. "You, Claire, are a harder psychological will to warp and suppress than most." Claire smiled, and Wesker could not understand why.

"See, this is what I wanted," she said, "even though it makes everything so much harder for me." Wesker silently encouraged her to continue. "You're mistake was not seeing that honesty was the quickest way to make me..." Claire was shocked at her words. She was telling him how best to get closer to her, or at least gain her willingness to remain with him. But part of her wanted to risk losing her compass in life if he would only be honest with her. "If you want my trust, stop trying to gain it by lying," she finished.

"The best liars lie the least," Wesker repeated knowingly, and he frowned at the irony. He had made a mistake, as much as he hated to admit it. He had rushed and resorted to means that were common tactics and worked on most people. Claire wasn't most people, and he had not counted on her seeing so clearly. "You more than earn the interest I have in you, Claire." Claire sighed. At least she had said what she wanted to say.

"Wesker, getting closer to you has ruined my life," she openly admitted as she walked out onto the porch for some time to clear her head. "Going home and keeping the fight alive will never been a simple decision again." Wesker watched her go in stunned astonishment. She wasn't outright trying to leave. After what he had just done, Claire was on his porch, thinking things over. She could not detach herself from him, or was it more?

She was choosing him, and he swelled with satisfaction. Chris was losing, but forget Chris for the moment. Claire Redfield had called him as he was but was still choosing him. No woman had ever chosen him once they had seen the real him, or, if they did stay, it was for mutual self-interest and ambition. He had never anticipated their attachment to go this far. What did it mean?—that he did not need to manipulate her for her trust and, dare he think it, affection. Wesker watched Claire's blue eyes with their amber flecks and knew that this was a rare thing in his life.

Despite what she had said about him easily shedding attachments, he was a powerful man who did not let things that he found valuable go. Did powerful women not compliment powerful men? But they would backstab him in their ambition. Not Claire. Wesker reached for her. She stood alone amid Umbrella's corruption, and she was his—not only because he had chosen her for her unique attributes, but because she had chosen him. He was on the porch with her immediately.

"You want honesty from me, dear heart, but that does not come naturally," Wesker said. "Are you still willing to trust me?"

"Never completely," Claire coarsely replied. "This is a new step in your plan, no doubt. Treacherous bastards are not to be trusted." Wesker smirked.

"I see that I'm forgiven."

"Yes, but you don't deserve it, and I won't forget it." She turned and found Wesker watching her with his professional face. "And that's not to say that I won't leave any moment." But Claire hoped that maybe this event would lead to something new and more open between them. Where her life went from there was unclear, and Claire was not comfortable with that, but she would certainly not help him. She would not harm him, but she wouldn't let him win. Wesker knew that her resolve was less certain than she would claim to herself, but like her, he kept his musings to himself.

"I'm willing to give your suggestion a try." Claire crossed her arms in disbelief. "I see that you don't believe me, and that's expected. You shouldn't, and you've known that all along." He leaned against the doorframe and smirked. "Ask me anything, dear heart, and I'll answer it. You have one question. Don't waste it."


	13. Chapter 13: Tell Me a Story

A shorter chapter as a prelude to the conflict about to come. Thanks for the reviews!

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Chapter 42: Tell Me a Story

Wesker could see the yearning in Claire's eyes as he gracefully sat on the porch's couch and waited for her question. He had known this would work with Claire, but he was never keen to reveal too much about himself. Detachment and obscurity lent him a power that he knew was influential. It gave him an image and dehumanized him, which often increased his intimidation factor, but here was Claire, and his naturally reliance on manipulation had failed with her. It was his own fault for keeping her so close—another formerly forbidden action in his playbook. She had observed and grown accustomed to his ways, although she really didn't have him figured out. No one did, but her recent insight into his methods showed that he had let her get closer than he'd have otherwise permitted.

Claire still regarded him with stupefied eyes and she kept staring. Wesker decided some encouragement was needed, and so he removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. He would give her time.

"Any question?" Claire double-checked.

"Any question."

"And you'll answer honestly? What if it's not something that you want to talk about?" Wesker had, of course, considered that, but he would take the risk for the end result, and he knew that he could skirt around or leave vague any topic that he disliked without outright lying. There was no danger here.

"Yes," he stated. "But I suggest that you don't ask for the coordinates of my other bases or something similar or I might be forced to recant." Claire sat beside him and leaned against her knees.

"Well, this is hard," she lightly laughed. "I have a million things that I'd like to know." Wesker expected some question about why he hated Chris (he expected that one most), or what he planned to do with Claire, but he wasn't prepared for her actual question. It went deeper than he'd imagined, and he had not anticipated her interest in him to override more practical queries.

"How and why did you get involved with Umbrella?" Her open, probing expression sought an answer from his hard face. She had always wondered about his past. "Something wrong?" she asked when he kept silent.

"I wasn't expecting that, dear heart. Why do you want to know?" Claire glared at him.

"I thought that I get to ask the questions?" she grumbled. "It's not fair to change the rules in the middle of the game." Wesker looked incredibly stern.

"I'm not a fair man," he countered. "You first, and then I'll keep my end of the bargain." Claire knew that arguing was pointless.

"I want to know more about you," she explained. "You stand like some untouchable, unknowable villain, but you were human once, young and maybe not so cruel. I…I just want to know something personal about who you are. How you answer this question will say a lot." Wesker watched her expectant face and decided that there was no harm in telling her part of the story. "Your turn," she pressed. "How did you get involved in all of this, and I want the whole story." She sat riveted as Wesker opened his mouth and began. She couldn't believe he was doing this.

"After my parents were murdered, a philosophy professor who had been a family friend took me in. Dr. Matthews was particularly interested in ethics and science, so I was continually exposed to articles and discussions on various companies. Umbrella was mentioned once or twice by the time I entered college. Matthews abhorred the monopoly Umbrella had in certain drugs and how they used their price control abilities to win political favors. He called it sinful," Wesker could not keep a sneer out of his voice at the thought, but his tone quickly returned to cool indifference. "I called it smart."

Wesker had never shared this with anyone, although he had derided Matthews's viewpoints with fellow scientists like Birkin when they were young recruits. Claire watched him eagerly, and he wondered how much he should reveal. He knew how important this confidence was to someone who wanted to arrange herself in his life.

"I entered a biochemistry program because of its practical applications, and I liked its possibilities for placement in an influential market. I quickly bypassed other students and skipped courses. All the prattle about basic theories and pointless projects nearly bored me to death. The rest of my time was spent taking psychology courses and I practiced using it to keep myself occupied. My aptitudes gained the attentions of an Umbrella recruiter even before I graduated. He made me an offer to work at a secure facility on numerous conditions." Wesker was not looking at Claire but outside as he selectively shuffled memories.

"Matthews was furious, but we'd been at odds for years. He wanted to comfort and improve mankind by limiting them. He never appreciated the power a place like Umbrella offered—the soft fool. We argued about ethics. He hounded me about them beginning in high school when my…predilection for pushing boundaries alarmed him." Wesker recalled a paper that he had written about the ends justifying the means with murder after reading _The Prince_ and how distraught Matthews had been over it. "He wanted me to play by the rules," Wesker sneered. "Rules are for people too weak to make their own—the same weak people pathetic enough to rely on the law. If you want anything done, do it yourself."

Wesker recalled sliding a knife across the throat of his parents' attacker and leaving him to bleed with distant satisfaction. The law failed where it counted most; it always had and always would. His law was the one that mattered. If he didn't take control, someone else would, and he hated having superiors. He glanced at Claire, who was staring into space; her own troubled past stirring emotions. Both were thinking of how the law failed, and for once they were in complete agreement. Claire had never seen her parents' murderer brought to justice, nor had she seen justice for Raccoon City. Claire and Chris had sadly learned while young to look out for themselves. Wesker had stopped feeling losses from his past long ago.

"Umbrella promised advancement and I took the opportunity, but they never had my loyalty. At first they were a research career, but I was surrounded by scientists that were my betters in that regard. By the time I entered Stars, I had found a more suiting avenue and Umbrella was a stepping-stone. Everyone successful there knew that self-interest was the governing principle, so it was the ideal place to begin my work. You could say that my experience there broadened my ambitions. Their work revealed opportunities that I had only ever dreamed of before. Now it's reality…"

Claire was sitting and hugging her knees in thought.

"So it's been a power draw for you all along…didn't you ever want anything else? Surely you didn't start by planning to rule people."

"I said one question, Claire, and you got more of an answer than you had a right to expect. I would be content with that."

If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll want a glass of milk," Claire blankly commented. Wesker shot her a questioning look. "It's from a kid's book that my mom used to read to me. She always called me the mouse." Claire unfolded her legs and unhappily watched him replace his sunglasses. "I appreciate that you shared that with me," she gently thanked. She had a strong feeling that Wesker had probably been an utter loner since the day he left Matthews. That was a long time for his darker character to fully develop in Umbrella's hands. Wesker stood.

"Are we going to lab?" Claire asked.

"I'm going alone," Wesker replied. "We won't run tests today." He hadn't minded telling Claire his story, but he hadn't liked it either. He'd see what, if any, fruits it bore later. For now, he had business to attend.

"Okay. I guess I'll see you when you come home." Wesker and Claire stood together for a delayed second. She'd see him when he came home. Claire shook her head as the spell broke and Wesker left. She was way to comfortable here. She stepped outside and went for a jog. She'd taken to more extreme exercises to test her body's strength, but she wasn't thinking about improving herself as she ran today. She was thinking about Wesker and what he had shown about himself. Part of her felt that she understood his desire for power, for she had felt the occasional urge when she was younger, but she had taken a different path than him. She felt supremely sorry for Wesker that he had turned out the way he had.

**************

Wesker stood at his lab bench and glanced into the hallway. Daniels passed him, but without so much as an acknowledgement. At least the man had a strong sense of self-preservation. He typed away on his computer and read the incoming messages with displeasure. His superiors had been notified about Claire's presence with him. _Daniels_, he inwardly scowled. His informant had been unable to record the conversation, but it didn't matter. Wesker dismissed the man with a short transfer of money and wondered if HFC would be keeping an eye on Claire now. That could complicate things.

Wesker drummed his fingers on the table and considered his options when the message he had been waiting for arrived. He opened the file and then nearly damaged the computer by pressing the delete button so harshly. The US government was investigating the continued appearance of Umbrella's biological weapons on the black market. Wesker had made a sale recently and was awaiting the chance to gather test results. The undead needed to retain mental cognition but not sentience; it was a goal in the works. _Soon_, he reminded himself.

He would square away his business with the government before leaving for Africa. They had captured one of the company's lesser grunts. Bad exposure for them meant bad exposure for him at the moment. They wanted him to clean it up. He'd do it, but for his own reasons. Let them think whatever they wanted. He closed the computer and decided to go back to the house. His mood lightened as he exited the building, for a most excellent thought had occurred to him. Perhaps Claire would like to accompany him. He only needed to present it in a fashion that did not make them sound like partners.


	14. Chapter 14: Watch my Back

In response to some queries concerning the Africa references: This story will end right before Resident Evil 5 begins. I promise that Adaptation will stand on its own and not be completely open ended, because I know how much that can drive people nuts. Nope—this story will merely end with the possibility of a sequel revolving around Resident Evil 5. I'll consider writing a continuation of the Wesker/Claire relationship into that plotline, but you'll have to wait and see. lol.

Back to this story, here is the latest chapter.

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Chapter 43: Watch my Back

It was late afternoon and Claire was sprawled on the living room couch with a book on her lap. She wasn't really reading; she hadn't been for some time. She was capable of handling herself now. Nothing vital was keeping her here, yet she was sitting around in Wesker's house. She'd wait for the physical tests to be completed, she decided. After that she could go home. Frustrated, she slammed her book shut and tossed it on top of the coffee table.

"Who the hell am I kidding?" she demanded from herself. _There is no excusable reason to stay here_. But she thought that maybe she could learn more about Wesker if she stayed, and maybe lend him what brief softness she could. There was so much more to him, and he had slowly been letting her get closer. _Hold it stupid, is getting closer to him wise?_ Surely everyone deserved to have a sliver of genuine care given to him or her. She had Chris and the gang, but Wesker never had anyone. Perhaps her sympathy had been the beginning of this entire downward trend, or so she considered. Even when Annette had pulled a gun on her, threatening her life, all Claire had seen was a tormented mother and wife. She had pitied Annette's pointless passing. She even pitied zombies as she shot them, not for what they were, but for who they had been. It wasn't in her to be hard or cruel; it just wasn't.

"And I like him, damn it," she muttered, but she still wouldn't admit to what extent. "Damn it, Wesker!" she shouted, just to make herself feel better.

"Excuse me?" Claire froze and then turned with an expression that Wesker judged as a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Claire stated. "You're back earlier than I expected." She brushed by him to get a glass of water. When she returned, Wesker was laying his jacket over the back of the couch. Claire caught a whiff of his scent as the coat landed, and she had an urge to draw closer and bury her nose in the fabric. But she would never let Wesker see her doing something like that. She'd rather die, and so she nonchalantly leaned against the wall and waited for him to tell her what was happening. He seemed content to take his time removing his gloves and setting them on the table and then cleaning his shades. Claire knew better than to rush him, but she wasn't the best at waiting.

"So?" she asked. Wesker continued to inspect his glasses. He slowly approached her and noticed how effortlessly she remained still.

"Dear heart, I have a proposition. You are so sure that my plans are evil. I represent darkness and those who fight against me represent "light". Perhaps it's a simplification, but is that not correct?" Claire warily nodded. "Would you care to test that theory?"

"What are you suggesting?" Claire asked and stared hard at him.

"I am giving you the chance to see first hand what kind of people and disorder I am fighting against. Your brother and anti-umbrella are a minority with your noble intentions. So few cannot hope to topple the powers above them, and, I assure you Claire, defeating me only means trading one tyrant for another, so to speak—not ridding the world of bioweapons. Your victory would be bittersweet, even if it were possible."

"You're the mastermind behind everything that has happened since Umbrella fell," Claire countered. "Stopping you is the first step to ensuring safety against biohazards. There is nothing that would justify your plans in my eyes." But his broaching of the subject intrigued Claire.

"You don't know what my plans are," Wesker pointed out.

"They have to do with you being all powerful and somehow using bioweapons to accomplish it. That's all I need to know."

"But not all viruses destroy," Wesker pointed out as he took her chin in his hand and gently caressed it. "Look at us. We're the beginning of something new. The possibilities…" His red eyes flashed with anticipation, and Claire caught a glimpse of how far his intentions might go. "A new world order," he privately reflected. He could see that Claire was repulsed, fascinated, and shaken by his words. He leaned closer to her face. "What do you say, Claire? Is the Redfield spirit strong enough to withstand a test?"

"You sure as hell bet it is," Claire threw back. "But tell me what your offer is first." Wesker released her face and stepped back.

"I have some business to take care of before I begin a new project, and some help would be useful." Claire's face screwed into an expression of disgust. "Claire, we won't be fighting anyone you'd object to punching." Her face relaxed. "If you choose to do this, it would be an opportunity to test yourself in combat, and I should think that you'd be interested in seeing what I do when you're not with me." It was appealing.

"What would I be going as?" she asked.

"Not part of a team, if that's what you're thinking. It will only be the two of us." At least that meant her presence wouldn't get around the underground company's gossip circle. That was the last thing that she needed. She crossed her arms and brainstormed.

"You'd trust me to watch your back?" she softly questioned. Wesker tilted his head. He hadn't thought about that.

"I suppose it means that I trust you more than most. You're not one to abandon people." She hadn't before, when he was injured, and he doubted that she would do such a thing after what they had shared. Complete trust was such a foreign concept to him, but Claire did hold a confidence that he had never given to anyone else. She had seen him at his most vulnerable and at his most cunning, and the personality that had born those without taking advantage of or escaping him was still all her.

"I'll do it," Claire decided. "I see my enemies in gray. I suppose it's time I saw my allies the same way." It was a bold move, but Claire needed to see what he offered for her own satisfaction.

"That brings me to the one condition," Wesker smiled. Claire scowled and he pleasantly ignored it. "I need your phone."

"What? Why?"

"I can't have you talking to Chris once I divulge mission details to you—a practical concern given your allegiances." Claire fidgeted with the pink cell that she had removed from her pocket. "You tested my intentions today; I expect the same privilege." He held out a hand. "The cell phone or you stay here." Claire gripped the phone tightly. It was her only connection to reality, to Chris and her cause. If she surrendered it, who would remind her of what awaited her at home? Chris's presence, even through the phone had always shored up her resolve.

_You complained that Chris treated you like a child_, she reminded herself. _Maybe he's stopped doing that, but how long will you continue to lean on him? You were independent before Wesker, and you can be the same again._ She placed the phone into his hand, and Wesker smiled wickedly as he pocketed it. She would do this and prove to herself that she could handle whatever Wesker dished out without relying on anyone else. Chris had saved her before—from Rockfort, the lab, Wesker's clutches. She was tired of being the one to always get stuck, and she didn't want Chris or Wesker to think of her on those terms.

"When do we get started?" Claire asked, throwing Wesker off guard with her eagerness to advance with the mission.

"We leave in two days," Wesker assured. "One of the company's men was captured over a week ago. It was confirmed today, and he had samples with him. We are to retrieve those samples from a secure facility in upper New York and clean up any complications. Clear enough?"

"Hmm," Claire nodded. "What are we doing until then?"

"We can begin physical tests. I haven't planned them out, but I believe you said something about running around in a giant wheel?"

".ha."

**********

Two days went by quickly, and now Claire sat in a landing helicopter with Wesker sitting across from her. He was exchanging words with the pilot about the mission, but Claire paid them little attention. She wore combat boots, pants, gloves, a shirt, and a thin protective vest, all of which were black. Two pistols were strapped to her waist as her only weapons, for Wesker had said that larger guns were a wasteful hassle for this job. She fiddled with the zipper on her vest and kept glancing at Wesker.

The physical tests had been interesting to say the least. Wesker had taught her more complex hand-to-hand combat techniques, which required very close bodily proximity and practice. She had been keen to learn the maneuvers, but keener to feel his hands traveling her arms and placing them in position. It didn't help that he had worn a shirt that completely clung to his abs yesterday, when they had a full-out fight to test her strength. Claire had been disappointed that her strength hadn't kicked in until after she had already been injured. She would see what happened today.

The helicopter was firmly on the ground, and Wesker left without a word. Claire followed after him and eventually walked at his side. There were four men in combat gear and one man in a business suit waiting for them at the edge of the landing field. He stretched out a hand to Wesker in greeting, but the blond man disdainfully rejected it.

"What is the meaning of this?" Wesker demanded.

"These men are at your disposal for the mission, and its recommended that you use them," the businessman stated. "They're very good—top of the line." Wesker barely gave them a glance.

"They aren't required. Give my regards to your superiors and tell them that I shall handle the situation myself."

"I'll let them know," the businessman crisply agreed. He was busy openly weighing Claire's presence. She steeled her eyes and gave him a look that she hoped conveyed, "Drop dead." She and Wesker left the others standing there, offended and confused. They watched the two mysterious figures stride confidently away, all black and menace.

"Damn!" one of the combat troops spat. "What's up his ass? I hope he gets shot."

"No kidding, and how about his sidekick?" another chimed in. "She was a mean looking bitch." The businessman kept silent and opened his cell phone. So his superiors had not been wrong when they'd advised him to be on the lookout for a female assistant with Wesker. They had no record of her, and she had appeared out of nowhere. It was one more reason to keep their eyes on Wesker and his private contracting. Whoever this unknown woman was, she had to be very dangerous.

Meanwhile, Claire and Wesker were driving toward their destination. It was a short trip of a half hour, and then they were approaching a large, concrete compound with fountains in front of it. Claire couldn't believe that Wesker was driving right for the front entrance. He slowed at the security gate and swiped some sort of electronic card to clear their path. They were heading for an underground garage at the building's side. _Into the belly of the beast_, Claire thought to herself. They pulled into an empty parking spot and Wesker passed Claire a long, black coat.

"Keep your weapons out of sight," Wesker instructed. Claire concealed them as instructed, and they walked toward and entered an elevator. Wesker hit a button that would take them up three stories, and Claire watched the floor numbers light up one by one over the door. "Ready, dear heart?" Wesker asked. The elevator stopped and the doors began to open.


	15. Chapter 15: Amber

Sorry for the delay—finals and all that jazz are time consuming. I hope this chapter meets the expectations of the action addicts out there. Enjoy!

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Chapter 44: Amber

It was too quiet. Claire exited the elevator into a small, empty room with a single door attached to it. Wesker swiped his security card and motioned for Claire to follow him. They were in an inspection room of some kind now. Guards stood at a station baring their path to the numerous doors beyond. They would need to pass through a metal detector to proceed beyond this point. Claire glanced questioningly at Wesker, who heedlessly approached the guards.

"Step through the detector and put your hand on the computer screen over there for a fingerprint ID scan," a guard instructed. Wesker neatly reached out and broke the man's neck with a sickening crunch. The other did not even get to finish his expletive before Wesker had disposed of him also. He lifted the bodies and propped them in their chairs so that anyone watching the security cameras would not immediately be alerted to trouble.

"Was that necessary?" Claire crossly asked, but Wesker ignored her. She gave the guards apologetic stares as she passed them. They had probably been normal men doing their jobs, but she could do nothing for them now. Before Raccoon, this would have deeply troubled her, but she had seen so many lives easily disposed of since then that death had lost its shock value. She did not know how far she would allow herself to get involved in the approaching violence.

They were quietly navigating white hallways, following signs for Lab C. Claire had been allowed to sit in for the phone conversation between Wesker and an informant that had tipped them off as to the sample's location, so she knew their destination. They passed employees in white or blue suits that gave them curious glances but hurried on their way to complete business. Apparently visitors were not uncommon, but still, there were no guards.

"Why aren't there more guards?" Claire asked as they stopped outside of a heavy, metal door. The lack of armed personal bothered her.

"They have never gotten their hands on the t-virus. They're inexperienced with mutant biohazard risks." Not having guards seemed foolish to Claire, but it made sense given what Wesker had said. He tried scanning his pass car at Lab C's entrance, but the door refused to open. Suddenly a siren sounded and the intercom system sparked to life.

"Warning: Dangerous intruders on Floor 3. Please evacuate the area." Wesker lifted his leg and kicked the door's latch. With a violent shudder and screech, it snapped and the door swung inward.

"Quickly," he ordered as they entered the lab beyond. The room reminded Claire of an Umbrella lab, but without chambers containing monsters. Several scientists turned to stare at them and immediately raised their hands in the air as Claire lifted her weapons. "Leave," Wesker ordered. They remained frozen. "Or stay and be killed." The small group rushed for the door to flee as he and Claire advanced. There was a scrawny man with straggly blond hair trying to leave, but Wesker's hand shot out and seized his throat.

"Not you," he coldly instructed with a threatening squeeze that made the man gasp for air. Wesker pushed the man ahead of him into the lab and accessed him. "You're the head researcher, Dr. Martin?"

"Yes," the man muttered nervously.

"Where is the viral sample that you recently received?" The edge in Wesker's voice was so even and low that Claire didn't even want to be in the same room as him. Lord help this thin man if he refused to answer.

"The sealed container in the next room," the scientist explained. "It's marked as Unknown Sample." Wesker immediately lost interest in the man and moved on. Dr. Martin shot Claire a questioning expression. She had a gun leveled at his chest. She motioned toward the door with it.

"I suggest you leave before he changes his mind." The man needed no second bidding and scurried to do as told. Claire found Wesker packing the retrieved sample into a secure container for transport. He slid the small, metal tube into a flap inside his log coat and proceeded to tamper with the nearby computer station. Claire knew from his briefing that he was loading a virus onto their system to destroy any data that they had collected.

"What about the prisoner?" she asked. They were supposed to find and rescue or kill the man that had been captured.

"He's already as good as dead," Wesker tonelessly answered. "I hope you're paying attention to our rear, dear heart," he added.

_Crack_

Claire spun and automatically fired through the doorway toward the entrance to Lab C. A tactical team was entering the room they'd come from and sending short spurts of fire in their direction. Claire hid against the wall beside the door and waited for a lull in the gunfire. She counted to keep her heart rate steady. _Aim to win, Claire. _The gunfire slowed, and she leaned into the doorway with her pistols out.

She was much faster than these men could anticipate. With vicious accuracy enhanced by her vastly improved reaction time, her guns pounded bullets into any exposed body part, but she did not necessarily kill. Her bullets found knees and arms—anything that would put these people out of action. Several bodies fell dead with blood rushing from head wounds, but otherwise Claire spared most of them. Wesker had not told her whom they were attacking, and so she was reluctant to treat these enemies as she would guards within an Umbrella base.

She flipped back behind the wall for protection as more gunfire headed her way and she reloaded. Already the smell of blood was assaulting her nose, and it still retained an attractive aspect. She imagined that it always would. The coppery scent swirled tantalizingly under her nostrils, and her pulse quickened as she again turned into the doorway. Something was being thrown. Her eyes latched onto the oblong object sailing through the air toward her.

_Grenade_.

Without thinking, her arm reached out and snatched the explosive device from the air. So quickly did her muscles move that she had successfully hurled it back at her opponents before it exploded. The blast sent debris from half-destroyed desks and glass instruments shooting through the air, but Claire remained in the doorway. Shards ripped into nearby, sealed gas tanks and resulted in an even larger explosion that rocked the lab, but still Claire did not move. Her red hair loosened from its ponytail and whipped backward with the blast that now engulfed the lab in fire. The amber in her eyes captured the flames' reflection and seemed to dance with deadliness. They saw only one thing.

Most of the men had fled the room, at least the ones capable of doing so, but there was one left behind the far lab table. Claire could smell his nervous sweat and hear him reloading. The sweat mixed with the blood, and Claire's system smoothed into a steady, intent steel that was only aware of one instinct: fight and kill. Part of her screamed that she was being completely unreasonable, but it was drowned out by the chaos before her. Her legs glided forward, like a predatory cat, and she slunk into a stalking pose. The smell of violence and fear was overwhelming now.

The man jumped up from behind the lab table and Claire sprung. His trigger finger immediately reacted, and painful metal pierced Claire's chest. It was the last straw needed to unleash her force. Survival needs pumped her veins with strength, and she lifted the man by the throat and slammed him into the ground. Her other hand closed into a fist and pummeled his chest. There was a sick, snapping sound of bones and a bloodcurdling scream before he died. Claire released his corpse and stepped back. Part of her wanted to feed, but she denied it. The repulsion controlled the hunger. She looked at her blood-coated limbs and the messy hole in the man's chest in disgust.

But her body remained ready for more action. It was unbelievable. Claire felt new skin and muscle growing over her bullet wound and healing the damage. It was a strange sensation that Claire had never known, but the oddest feeling was the one of invincibility. She looked at the gun in the dead man's grasp and knew that she could snap the metal in half without any effort. It was terrifying and enthralling all at once.

"Claire!" Wesker called. He was standing in the doorway behind her and surveying the damage that she had caused. "It's time to go. We're taking the back exit." His attention was drawn from her bloody hands to her glittering eyes as Claire approached, and, for a few moments, he could not turn his gaze away.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Wesker assured. "Watch our back." They proceeded deeper into the lab and came upon a viewing room not unlike the one that Wesker had once kept a human test subject in. "And there is the man we were sent to retrieve," Wesker informed. Claire shuddered as she approached the glass. There was a man in the room, strapped to a lab table with tubes connected to his arms and legs. His skin was the pale gray of the infected, and his arms had mutated into spidery claws. Drool oozed from his gaping mouth with its swollen tongue. His yellow eyes darted to and fro frantically as his head twitched. Claire desperately wanted to kill and put him out of his misery.

"They infected him?"

"No," Wesker corrected. "He was accidently infected by the samples that he carried when they ambushed him. The others were intentionally infected."

"What others?" Claire asked in horror. Wesker led her into the next room, which was another viewing station, and Claire gasped. Several deformed people were locked in a single cell, and they grunted and hissed while shambling around. Their old, mismatched clothing and ragged, dirty appearance instantly spoke volumes to Claire. "They abduct homeless people off of the streets?" she quietly asked. "For test subjects?"

"They're easy targets." Claire shook her head sadly.

"Who are the people doing this?" she asked. "Another biochemical company?" Wesker's guarded expression did not completely remove his hidden smirk, and his voice was drenched in cold mockery.

"Look down, dear heart," he instructed. Claire did and her mouth dropped open. She was standing on the seal of the United States military. Wesker watched her horrified and angry expression. Claire was not surprised at what life had thrown at her, but suspecting something and knowing it for certain were different matters entirely. The same people that she had been counting on to help stop bioweapons were mimicking Umbrella's tactics. They had banned Umbrella, making anti-umbrella hope that maybe the government would heavily aid in cleaning up the horrors left by biohazards. Now she was faced with exactly what Wesker had promised: if he lost, the winners might be little better than him. They even took homeless people and disposed of life just as carelessly.

"That man back there," Wesker commented. "Claire, that's what they'll do to us if we're ever discovered."

"Oh my god," Claire said under her breath. "Why did you want me to see this?"

"I'm readying you for the caution that your—our—condition requires. Your transformation is not as obvious as mine, but you can't trust anyone who has a vested interest in viral research. Never, Claire." Gunfire interrupted their conversation as another squad honed in on their location. "Such a hassle," Wesker scoffed. They sped from the room and exited through an emergency door at the rear of the lab. They climbed down the outside stairwell and reentered the building through a window several floors down.

"HELP!" a woman yelled as she ducked behind her desk. The frantic people in the office rushed for cover as Wesker completely ignored them. They were merely pests in his eyes as he entered the hallway and dispatched the security guards with a quick succession of bullets to the brain. Claire glanced at the bloody walls and followed him to an elevator.

"We're sorry," a voice announced when he tried to swipe his card. "Due to the current lock down, all elevators and security checkpoints have been sealed. Please remain calm and wait for your area to be cleared for evacuation." Claire suddenly realized that she had a true hate for automated voices and security messages.

"At least the building won't self-destruct," she offered. Wesker didn't so much as smirk as he looked for the nearest stairwell. They rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. An entire, armed team of soldiers stood near the stairwell with drawn weapons. "Shit!" They had been spotted as soon as they'd rounded the corner, and orders to kill them were quickly executed.

Wesker grabbed Claire and pulled her to safety behind the corner as bullets decimated the plaster job on the nearby wall. Claire found herself against his chest and suffocated by his smell with his arm around her for a brief second before he pushed her aside to draw his gun. Claire did likewise and checked her ammo.

"Together?" she asked Wesker. For the first time that day, he smirked at his sarcastic finest.

"On three, dear heart." _One. Two. Three_. They rounded the corner with raised weapons flaring into action. Death descended without mercy as shot after shot rang out. Wesker's shoulder jerked backwards as he was shot, but his accuracy did not falter. Claire felt blood on her cheek, but she brushed it aside. Their black jackets fluttered behind their steady advance as bodies fell before them. The hallway was quickly becoming lined with bodies and bloody debris.

A soldier lifted a shotgun and lowered it at Wesker's chest. Claire completely forgot that Wesker couldn't die as she saw the man's muscles tighten to pull the trigger. Fear gripped her, and she again felt a burst of power overtake her system. Mixed with the blood, the intensity of her emotions enveloped her.

"Wesker!" she yelled in warning, even as her feet moved. She dashed forward and grabbed the shotgun's barrel, wrenching it from the man's hands. She used the confiscated weapon to swing downward at the man's head, and his body collapsed into a lifeless heap on the floor with one fell hit. The weapon continued to travel and slammed into the floor. Such was the strength behind the attack that the gun's force of movement not only crushed a skull, but also loudly cracked and ruined the tiled floor upon impact. The gun snapped in half, and the freed part flew into the air.

Another man turned to fire at her, but Claire collapsed his throat with a punch and turned to find Wesker shooting the last of the survivors. She stared at his smooth, determined movements and dark visage. He had never seemed so invincible to her, even with red flecks of blood peppering his blond hair. This man was something else. How would Chris ever survive direct conflict with the wrathful figure before her?

Wesker finished the last opponent and broke Claire out of her thoughts by motioning her to the stairs. They quickly descended and found themselves in the dark garage. The black car was waiting right where they had left it, and Claire flopped into the passenger's seat with a dull sigh. The adrenaline was fading and she suddenly felt sluggish. She had never exerted her powers like that before, and the experience was unexpectedly draining.

"Are you okay?" Wesker asked when he realized how haggard she looked.

"Yeah, just a little shaken. I've never lost control like that before…" She tossed her torn jacket into the backseat as Wesker started the car. They exited the garage and pulled up to the gate.

"No one's allowed to leave," a guard informed. His hand quickly went for his gun when he realized the bloody and dangerous countenance of the car's passengers. Claire was faster and aimed a gun at the man's face.

"Open the gate," Wesker ordered. The man swallowed hard and stepped backward, wondering if he had time to reach his walkie-talkie.

"Just open the damn door!" Claire demanded. "I am tired, dirty, hungry, and really not in the mood to be pissed off." Wesker darkly smiled at the man.

"I suggest you take her advice." The gate opened and the vehicle quickly accelerated into the distance.

"Nice performance," Wesker complimented.

"I bet," Claire grumbled and set the gun at her feet. Maybe it was the after-effect of smelling so much blood, but her stomach clenched in hunger. It was the first time that she had felt hungry in weeks. She relaxed and lowered the visor to block the sunlight streaming painfully into her eyes. The mirror on the inside of the flap caught her attention and she gasped. Those were not her eyes staring back at her. Her heart pounded. _Oh, shit_. The sky blue coloring was gone, replaced by brilliant, golden amber. She squeezed her gilded eyes shut in terror. Death, government secrets, power…amber eyes. This was entirely too much to deal with in one day. What was going to happen now?


	16. Chapter 16: In the Middle

Hello again. Thanks to everyone who is reviewing. I appreciate knowing how you feel about my work. Enjoy the latest chapter!

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Chapter 45: In the Middle

Claire closed her eyes and leaned into the seat. She could feel tears coming, but she obstinately held them back. She would never be able to act as she had before, in her old life. She'd have to wear sunglasses like Wesker and make sure that no one saw her eyes. Her hands were gripped together tightly on her lap. She was sick of living in uncertainty about her condition. Wesker had helped her with the first part, and she had been convinced that things weren't as bad as she had first thought. She had been ready to go home. Now…

"Dear heart," Wesker began.

"Not now, please," Claire softly requested. Wesker glanced at her but remained silent. Claire opened her eyes and stared forlornly out the window. There was also the issue of the government to accept, and she decided that it would have been better to have rejected Wesker's offer to accompany him. She didn't know what to do anymore. If both sides in a conflict were vying for the same type of power, then how could Chris and her friends—the honest people stuck in the middle—end happily? It was incredibly unjust. People were dying out there because of the power struggles of the ambitious. She sighed. Ending happily wasn't the point. Someone had to help. The larger result depended on forces outside of her. Well, maybe she could do more than she thought, as she recalled how powerful she had become.

A sense of insecurity loomed over her. She wasn't safe anymore—not that her lifestyle ever really meant that she was safe before, but this was different. She had to worry about being sought out because of what she was and intentionally imprisoned to await experimentation. The same would happen to Wesker if he were caught, she was sure. Another wave of defensive spirit hit her. She couldn't imagine Wesker strapped to a bed, being cut and prodded. She would never want to see such a thing, but did that mean that there was no way to defeat him except through death? He could never surrender or face what he had done to others while in Umbrella. The dog tags seemed colder than usual against her skin. No, this couldn't end well, as much as she wanted it to.

And if he died, what then? She would be alone in what she was. He had been such a comfort in being able to understand her condition. He would never look at her differently for what had happened, not even the dog. No one else, not even Chris, would ever be capable of fully comprehending that. She wondered if he had known his advantage in their similarities all along and had played upon it.

_You're not safe_, her mind repeated. And then she realized that she would be safe with and accepted by Wesker, if no one else. Damn it that he had to be after what he was. She wondered if the government would be chasing her now. It wouldn't be as important if they didn't know what she was. Suddenly she sat forward in her seat and turned to Wesker.

"Do they know what you are?" she asked.

"No. Very few do," Wesker stated.

"But there were video cameras in there," Claire insisted. "Won't the footage of us fighting sort of give it away?" Wesker turned to her blankly. Claire knew he was calculating, and it maddened her that she couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"I suppose," he answered and turned his focus back on the road. "It was inevitable that they should learn sooner or later." _He supposed_? Claire was suspicious. Wesker did not _suppose_. He planned. He thought ahead and formulated minute details.

"You're not concerned?" Claire pressed. Wesker detected her accusing undertone but did not look at her.

"No, Claire," he said dismissively. "They won't pinpoint my identity by unclear headshots, and I'm legally dead. Most people assume that I am gone." Claire frowned. "You didn't make the mistake of looking directly at a camera, did you?"

"No!" Claire defended herself. "But isn't it possible that they'll learn my identity anyway?"

"It's possible, Miss Redfield, but not probable unless you get too close to them again, in which case they'd do a thorough background check." Claire openly glared at him.

"That's very reassuring," she grumbled. "So I shouldn't say, get a job with them?" Wesker smirked.

"I wouldn't try it."

"And I probably shouldn't ever trust the government again…and I'm sure that you know how anti-Umbrella sometimes works with and is increasingly getting involved with the government. This mission was very convenient for you." Wesker was surprised that she had caught on so quickly.

"I won't say that it wasn't," he said, "but you had to see that, Claire. If you had gotten more involved with the government, not knowing what they do, have you any idea what could have happened to you? You saw how they operate. Just because you intend to help doesn't mean that they wouldn't betray you. Believe me, it happens everyday, and your life would be the cost. There's no forgiveness in powerful institutions."

"So I'm supposed to thank you?" Claire demanded. "Sorry, Wesker, but you did this for yourself. You really don't want me to return to anti-Umbrella." She didn't know whether to be angry, depressed, or flattered that he wanted to retain her presence at this level of effort.

"Claire," Wesker truly sounded exasperated, "Stop acting like that thick-headed brother or yours. You're too smart to have learned nothing from the lab. Is what you're fighting for worth returning to? The futility of continuing to fight based on moral superiority is an ignorant position."

"Men like you may rule the world in different forms, and you're right; I can't change that, and I'm not trying to. I just want to help the people stuck in the middle. Damn it, Wesker, I have to do something. I can't sit on my hands and pretend that people aren't being infected and dying." She found herself unbelievably frustrated with him and the world at large. "But I give you credit for your plan," she sneered. "It might have worked. Maybe it still will, but I'm not that easy." Her temper cooled and she continued staring out the window. She could feel Wesker's well-placed chinks in her armor growing larger.

"Would you have agreed to do this job for your superiors if it hadn't held this extra bonus?" she asked.

"No. I would have found an acceptable excuse not to involved myself," Wesker admitted. Claire didn't know how to respond. Her feelings were in a tangle. There was a question that she wanted to ask, but she was afraid of the answer.

"Why does this mean so much to you?"

"We've been through this, Claire," Wesker admonished. "You know the answer to that."

"Say it," Claire pressed. "You allude to it. You imply it. You sometimes make small admissions, but I want to hear it. I want a clear explanation, and I think you owe it to me after everything you've put me through."

"I owe you nothing," Wesker said coldly.

"Of course not," Claire sarcastically bit back. "You've only run over my life, confused me, and convinced me to question myself. And the only comments you've made on the subject have to do with being attached and pragmatic." She didn't even want to look at him, and Wesker breathed deeply while gripping the steering wheel in contemplation. Now was the time where he might need to be completely honest, as before, to regain her confidence.

"You have the potential to be even more than you already are, Claire," Wesker carefully began. "You are useful Claire, and since we began spending time together, I have slowly come to want you at my side. Don't you see how unique you are to adapt to and tackle anything that comes at you without changing? Your resistance—Claire, you could be powerful without succumbing to cunning, unlike almost everyone who enters this world. It's a rare quality that I would never count on finding again."

"That's it?" Claire asked. "I'd make a great ally that you happen to be attached to? Let me get this straight from what you've said: I would be useful at your side but not a threat to you, because who I am wouldn't change with power. You self-centered, egotistical, power-hungry…" Claire bit her lip and angrily bid him to fall over dead. "And the longer I stay with you, the more likely that is to happen. Great." She couldn't stay here, not anymore. She saw what was happening to her, and she didn't like it. Being ridiculed by Chris for what she had done would be better than becoming a somewhat trusted assistant, but as she stared at Wesker, she knew that part of him was far to deep under her skin to ever pull out. She cared about him. Part of her wanted to be with him.

"I can't stay here or this will get worse," she announced. She had better act before her resolve failed her. With that thought she grabbed the door handle and flung it open. Wesker's face contorted in utter bewilderment as the wind whipped Claire's hair wildly about her thinly pressed mouth. He was driving at almost eighty miles per hour. Claire's amber eyes blazed with sadness and uncertainty, and the fleeting image reminded Wesker of some kind of mournful goddess. He had no time to react as she leapt from her seat. In the blink of an eye, Claire Redfield was gone.

Wesker slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched angrily as it skidded to a halt. He checked the rearview mirror and saw Claire's bruised and bloody form lifting itself off of the road. They were on a mostly deserted highway in the countryside, surrounded by forests and farmland. Claire was already sprinting into an open field, heedless of what lay ahead of her. Wesker's eyes fervently blazed and he gave chase. It would not end like this.

Claire glanced behind her only once and saw Wesker gaining on her. She was at a disadvantage since her physical power came and went. She did not understand why her strength was not kicking in now, when she thought that survival mode should take control. Maybe part of her didn't want to escape, but she dismissed that as sick doubt and pressed onward. Her body would not go faster. She blamed it on the sluggish aftereffects of recently exerting herself.

Something brushed against her hair, and she nearly panicked. Suddenly she felt her strength returning, but it was too late to regain distance. Incredibly strong arms ensnared her waist and Wesker's momentum sent them both hurtling to the ground. The breath was knocked from Claire's body as she landed, and she heard Wesker grunt, but he did not loosen his grip. She twisted and struggled with her unnatural strength, yet he did not yield. His own determination was fueling his much easier to control abilities, but Claire kept growing stronger as her instincts kicked in.

Wesker knew that if he didn't do something, she would surpass his power and escape. He rolled on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground at her sides and controlling her legs by pressing his against her.

"Claire," he gently called. Her amber eyes found his red ones, his sunglasses having fallen away. She was breathing heavily, and all she was aware of was him. "Yes, Claire, you would be useful without the drawback of scheming against me for more power." She let her pained eyes wander to the side. "Look at me!" Wesker demanded. "That's not everything," he breathed. "You would be able to survive danger without changing the things that—listen to me, Claire. Not having to watch my back every second of everyday with someone is not to be underrated." There, he had said it. "The admissions that you see as impersonal only seem cold from your viewpoint. This is as personal as conditions get in my life." Claire watched him with those golden orbs and swallowed.

"That's not very personal," she weakly commented.

"That's how it has to be." Claire tried to move and Wesker pressed his body firmly against hers in warning. She shook her head. He was being honest about how he felt and it still lacked the open warmth that a relationship with another man would offer her. Wesker was still Wesker.

"This is only going to get harder for me," Claire stated. "The more I'm with you, the more I'm going to want to stay. Things get a lot more personal on my end." Wesker regarded her as he loosened his grip and allowed her to shift out from under him. She wanted so badly to bury her nose in his shirt and forget the world. For the first time, she considered that she might be falling in love with him, what with all her silly urges and lingering thoughts. Her circumstances had advanced to a level where she had never thought they'd go.

"Wesker, how did we end up like this?" she questioned.

"Half a year ago, a foolish woman stole a sample from me," Wesker started. Claire smiled through her torment.

"You have the worst timing for bringing out your rusty sense of humor," she accused. Wesker didn't think it was rusty. He just rarely had a reason or occasion to share it. He stood and offered her his hand. Claire accepted it and they went back to the car. Wesker pointed out that she needed to rest and running away was idiotic. She pointed out that he was trying to settle her qualms again. Neither argued as they pulled into a small motel and paid for a room. Claire wore sunglasses throughout the exchange with the manager, much to her annoyance. She had only been wearing them fifteen minutes and she hated them. The man had asked if they were one of those couples that always dressed alike. That did not amuse her either, but she imagined that they did make quite the visual pair in their black outfits and shades.

They had a quiet evening. Claire was incredible embarrassed when Wesker emerged from a shower to find her with her face buried in his jacket. She muttered an incoherent excuse about how it made her feel more secure and fumbled for the remote while Wesker combed back his hair. He really was attractive.

Wesker smirked as he watched her sitting on the edge of the bed and scanning the television channels. She had been magnificent in combat—stronger and faster than he had anticipated. He had to admit that she was probably more powerful than he was; yet she did not have complete control of herself. She claimed that instincts had taken over and caused most of the destruction. He could not say whether that was positive or negative. Certainly it had been to his benefit this afternoon, and he did not like the idea of someone being more powerful than him.

He laid down and relaxed. Maybe Claire would stay now that they had gone through their altercation. His scent made her feel safe. She had no idea how much significance that held, for the US government was not the only force that would be interested in her from now on. His employers had noticed her, and she was paired with him in their eyes. Possible enemies were waiting on either side of Claire. Wesker belonged to no one; he was in the middle, out for himself. Claire was in the middle because she had no other options. It was imperative that she remain alert and choose to stay where she was most secure.

The television was turned off and Claire crawled under the blankets. There were two beds, but sharing one with Wesker had become an acceptable condition, and she didn't want to feel alone at the moment. She kept her physical distance from him but faced his lounging form. He was on his back and turned his head to look at her. Claire smelled something new coming from him. It was his scent, but slightly different, perhaps heavier and more alluring. Claire did not fully understand why there was a difference as they locked eyes.

"Goodnight," she said. Wesker nodded and stared until her eyes closed, wondering how long it would take before she allowed him to get closer physically. He contemplated her peaceful countenance. It had been a long time since nightmares had made her twist and turn. He closed his eyes and slowed his heart rate purely by thinking about it.

Claire was unaware, but her eyes had changed again. Blue flecks were returning to her irises. Wesker didn't know what it meant, but he found the amber coloring rather reflective of her fiery attitude. They suited her, and he certainly didn't take issue with them like she did.


	17. Chapter 17: Free Falling

Chapter 46: Free Falling

Chris sat and thought about the offer that he was receiving. It was a good job with a special task branch of the government that specialized in biohazard and terrorist investigations. He'd be an independent field agent—in the action and mostly autonomous, like he wanted. The entire team had been waiting for the day when powers above themselves would see how vital stopping Umbrella and similar companies was, and now it appeared to have arrived. Working alone had perhaps given him great mobility, and he didn't need to worry about side motivations from superiors, but being involved with something larger meant having a greater impact. All in all, it was an excellent opportunity.

Jill was sleeping in the bed beside him. If he took this job, it would be time to say goodbye to her for extended periods of time. Well, he decided, that wasn't very different from how they were already living. It felt good to have someone waiting for his arms every time that he escaped danger, and she unquestioningly understood his work and dedication. He was very lucky. Being with someone amid biological threats meant more to him than he had ever verbalized. He'd need to show Jill just how much she meant to him someday.

His mind turned to Claire. She was off on her own, alone somewhere, being her usual, meddling self, no doubt. He wondered where she was. There had been no news from her in a long time, and that worried him. He hoped that she was taking care of herself and would return soon. He wanted to see her before he left for his new position, because the next chance might be a long way off. Perhaps Claire would also be interested in working for the government since she adamantly refused to return to school while monsters were on the loose. He smiled fondly and decided to mention it to his contacts.

_Come home soon, sis._ No one should endure what they had to alone. Infected or not, Claire was his closest confidant, and he missed her. The world was an ugly place to tackle single-handedly. Jill yawned and opened her eyes. Chris smiled at her and bent over to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. _Don't take long, Claire_.

*****************

Wesker was dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed with his open laptop. His fingers stroked keys quickly, but his attention was elsewhere. Claire was still in bed and rolled over, nudging his thigh with her knees in the process. Her eyes immediately snapped open, and she gave him a half-smile.

"Good morning," she greeted. Thank goodness he had put his shirt back on. Claire couldn't help it any longer. She watched him stand and artfully slip his sunglasses on, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was completely attracted to him.

"We need to leave," Wesker briskly announced. Claire nodded in understanding and moved toward the mirror to put her hair in a ponytail. She combed the strands and lifted her eyes to her reflection. She paused, confused, and moved closer.

"Wesker!" she said excitedly. "My irises are almost completely blue again." She turned to show him.

"Time, Miss Redfield." Claire hastened and they were on their way. She was examining her eyes in the overhead mirror while Wesker drove. The amber was still much more prevalent than it had been when she first died, but from a distance they mostly appeared blue. She shut the mirror and turned to Wesker. He was ever the sculpted figure of immovable concentration as she spoke.

"Why did my eyes change again?" she asked.

"It's unclear," he responded offhandedly. "Perhaps it's directly connected to your fits of power and instinct." Claire thought that his rudimentary explanation made sense, as much as she dreaded the idea of the amber returning next time she was threatened. Obviously Wesker didn't fall prey to instincts or lack of control. His virus was different than hers, but the symptoms were similar. She sunk further into her seat and zoned out.

Where her life was heading was more unclear than it ever had been. She pulled the dog tags free from her neck and ran her fingers over the text. Resigned to what was happening in her life, she replaced them and checked her eyes for the fifth time. She couldn't help it. Her hopes of having a family and returning to the way that she had once lived would be affected by any abnormalities. Even with colored contacts, how could she marry someone and keep such a huge secret?

"Dear heart, you're being paranoid," Wesker stated. Her constant, hurried movements were distracting him from his business-orientated thoughts. Claire sighed and shut the mirror.

"Easy for you to say," Claire answered. "You're not hoping to marry and have kids; and show me a man in this world that wouldn't be put off by amber eyes." Wesker gave her a long, meaningful sidelong glance that embarrassed Claire. Okay, so there might be at least one man that wouldn't care. She wondered if it was insensitive of her to complain about freaky eyes when his were worse. One glance at Wesker told her that he probably didn't give a damn about having red eyes. He happily used them to intimidate people before.

Claire kept silent for a long stretch of time, and Wesker eventually noticed that she was uncharacteristically blank faced. He did not want her thinking herself in circles and attempting to jump out of the car again. He was so close to having her loyalty that losing at this juncture would anger him to no end. He had been hoping that her eyes would remain amber, for it served as another tie to him. He studied her expression. Telling her the truth had been incredibly useful, but it had also required him to reveal the depth of his reasons for keeping her. He had all but stated that he saw her as an instrumental companion—practical but personal nonetheless. He'd admitted that she was as close as he had ever allowed someone to get to him.

"What are you thinking, Claire?" he asked.

"I'm not going to do something crazy, if that's what you're checking on," she answered. Wesker absently noted that two cars had turned onto the road behind them.

"You know me too well," he commented. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"I'm thinking about the future," Claire said. Wesker's eyes were trained on the black cars trailing them as he listened. Claire followed his line of sight and also noticed the mysterious vehicles. "Is it normal for three super expensive cars to be cruising a back road?" she needlessly asked.

"Get your guns," Wesker instructed as the car started to pick up speed. His actions prompted the other cars to match his pace, and Wesker cursed the annoyance. The government deserved a little more credit for locating offenders, he decided. He and Claire had several options: stop and kill them, outrun them, or both if necessary. Wesker didn't need this hassle. He crossly thought that killing them would be easiest, but air support would not be far off, so stopping would do more harm than good. They needed to find a way to disappear from the government's radar, which meant ditching the car at some point. For now, they had to slip away.

"Dear heart," Wesker said, "Shoot to kill." Claire fidgeted in her seat as she lowered her window and checked her guns.

"They're with the military?" Claire questioned as Wesker hit the gas. The car rapidly accelerated and the cars behind them followed suit.

"No," Wesker answered. "They're probably people who were close to our area and called in for support—FBI or police." Claire's eyes widened in horror. These were just cops doing their job? Chris had been a cop. They probably didn't even know why they were being told to chase Claire and Wesker. Claire gritted her teeth and frowned as she readied to lean out the window. The pursuing cars were blaring their sirens, and blue and red lights appeared in the back windows. Claire groaned. They were cops. She didn't want to harm them, but her life was endangered. The speedometer was climbing.

"Can you let them get closer so I can shoot their tires out?" Claire loudly asked Wesker over the wind coming through the window. He shot her an annoyed expression.

"And if they damage our car we'll risk a much messier situation," he stressed. Claire still hesitated, and his temper rose. "Claire," he ground out. Sure they could still escape if the car was destroyed, but it would require more work and lost time. Claire openly turned and challenged him.

"I won't kill them, Wesker," she stated. Wesker wanted to threaten her into listening, but there was next to nothing that he could do without negative consequences. He considered whether he should put pressure on her or let her obstinacy slide this once. He glanced at the side mirror. The cars behind them were closing the gap between vehicles, and one was soon pulling up close to Wesker's bumper. It nudged his Audi, and Claire finally swung her torso out the window, sitting on the frame and aiming. She fired several rounds at one vehicle's tires, but the bullets missed their marks.

"Shit!" she cursed. It was difficult to aim when they were moving so fast on a bumpier road, and her ponytail kept flying into her face and obscuring her vision. She could feel her energy rising and tried to fire again. Only now the police were shooting back, and she was forced to swing back inside the car to reload.

"Now would be an excellent time to kill them," Wesker roughly remonstrated in his annoyance. Claire ignored him and titled her head. There was another noise growing louder over the engine. Wesker had heard it too, and Claire moved her head to the window. The sound was too distinct to misinterpret: there was a helicopter somewhere nearby.

Several bullets pierced the car's metal casing with dull thuds, and Claire swung back out the window. Wesker kept a close eye on her. If she were shot, the force might rip her from the car and onto the road. They were now traveling over a hundred miles per hour, which was pushing the boundaries of safety on a road that was less than straight.

Wesker could hear a loud roaring ahead right before a bridge appeared. It spanned a gorge with a wildly flowing river beneath it, freshly swollen with heavy rains. The thundering blue and white streak cut neatly through the forest that had encased the stretch of road, and it would have been beautiful under other circumstances. Wesker grabbed Claire's thigh and jerked her back into the car.

"What?" she asked. The car jolted as it rolled onto the bridge. The open grates hummed underneath the wheels as Wesker unlocked his door.

"Get ready to jump out of the car," he stated. Claire's mouth nearly fell open. He wouldn't do what she thought he was thinking—no way, but his determined look said otherwise. There was no easier way to throw the government off of their tracks then making themselves look dead and destroying the car.

"Wesker…" Claire nervously swallowed. Maybe she was impenetrable to physical harm, but there was a very sizable drop to the water, and the raging river didn't look suited for swimming. Wesker twisted the wheel to make the car appear like it was swerving out of control before sending it crashing into the guardrail. The sound of tearing metal tore through Claire's mind. "Oh, shit, oh shit!" she chanted as the wheels entered open air. There was a sudden dropping sensation as gravity took over and Claire gripped the dashboard in dread. Her eyes erupted in glowing amber swirls as imminent pain consumed her imagination. The black car was free falling toward the rocks below.

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Please Read and Reply. We're getting towards the end here!


	18. Chapter 18: Tyrants Don't Mix with Water

I just pumped this chapter out as it came to me and am posting it, so I apologize for any obvious grammatical or spelling errors. It was crazy fun to write, so I hope everyone enjoys reading it! Remember, I love hearing opinions, and thanks to my reviewers.

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Chapter 47: Tyrants Don't Mix with Water

Claire barely had time to register what was happening as the water drew closer at a frightening pace. Her body was lifting out of her seat and she grabbed for something, anything, to hold onto and braced her nerves. She could see rocks jutting out above white foam, right below where the car was heading. Terror constricted her throat as the front of the vehicle slammed into the river and water erupted around her. A fallen tree branch nestled in the rocks shattered the windshield and sent shards scattering over her body. She heard rocks grinding against the car's bottom and sides, and water rushed in around her legs. Her hands grappled for the window and she began pulling herself outside as the car sunk deeper.

Exiting the car was no easy feat. Water slammed into her body, running down her throat and making her cough. She couldn't see properly with the flying liquid slapping her face and stinging her cheeks. There was a sickening screech and the car that she was hanging halfway out of lurched. The water was forcing it sideways, off of the rocks, and into deeper water. It began tilting toward Claire, angling her awkwardly toward the river's surface. The metal frame would fall and trap her underneath the water if she didn't hurry. With every ounce of force in her body, she braced her legs against the door and propelled herself headlong into the rapids.

The world blurred and spun. There was no up or down, only suspension.

Claire struggled to hold her breath as she twirled beneath the water. Her back grazed the gritty river bottom and she felt her skin open painfully before her natural buoyancy sent her reeling toward the surface. Her head broke through the water with a loud gasp. Her strength might be at its peak, but without a proper footing and nothing to hold onto, she was at a loss. The current swept her away, under the bridge and over another drop into a pool of water. She reached for a rock and desperately clung to it as she continued to be pelted.

"Wesker!" she called. Good god, where was he? Her panic meter rose as she hurriedly searched the river around her. It was terribly difficult to see with spray and foam surging into her face, but she did her best. "WESKER!" she desperately yelled. Maybe he had been swept further downriver. It was a possibility. She looked up and saw that the black vehicles had stopped on the bridge, and a helicopter was circling overhead. Claire didn't care. She had to find Wesker. It was the most coherent thought that she had as her system burst with flight instincts.

She couldn't stay near the police and she couldn't just walk along the water's edge to look for Wesker. With a last nervous intake of breath, she released her lifeline rock and was again taken by the current. It pulled her beneath the surface only to spit her up again and again. Her body ached as it careened into rock after rock. A momentary lift above the waves afforded her a view of what lay ahead, and her eyes widened in horror. There was a large drop over a rocky outcropping directly ahead of her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her body flew over it and into the deeper water below. Her head slammed into a rock and darkness started to close in around her eyes. _No. No. Not now_. She fought the urge to close her eyes and grappled with rocks and debris, pulling herself along the bottom until she emerged near the bank.

She gulped for air as she lay in the shallow water and stared disorientated at the rapids. She felt more dead than alive. Hell, she would be dead if she hadn't already been there and done that. Her gaze wondered further downriver and she caught sight of something black being whipped around in the current. _Wesker_. Her heart jumped worriedly. She could not remember feeling more drowned by selfless panic in her life. She had to get to him.

***********

Wesker watched the water approaching and protectively strapped the bag with his laptop in it around his chest. He would not risk the government retrieving his research—never. As the car neared impact, he swung his door open and waited to jump. There was a deafening, high-pitched tearing sound of metal and gears and then only the rush of water. The force of the water flying around the car as it smashed had violently jolted Wesker from his seat and sent him tumbling unprepared into the rapids. He could not see Claire, but his mind was on his own survival as his body was forced under.

Time seemed to stop as he floundered smoothly through the water. He did not need to breath. He knew that, but his human instincts were to hold his breath anyway. His sunglasses were gone and he opened his red eyes as his body was tugged upward. Against the bubbles rising around his face, he caught sight of another black-clad figure landing in the water as the car completely fell into the river. It barely missed pinning Claire beneath its bulk. She was kicking madly, but Wesker quickly lost sight of her.

He was thrown above the water and landed halfway atop a barely submerged rock. His ribs cracked painfully, eliciting a harsh grunt from his lips. His hand reached for the rock's edge as a grip, but his leather gloves easily slipped across the slimy surface and sent him back into the water. He was at the mercy of nature, and it angered him. Weakness—being helpless—went against what he stood for. He kept careful control over his life and world. This was the exact opposite, and the realization made him fume. Frustration set in as he noticed a massive drop ahead of him. He would not be controlled like this. His fate was always in his own hands.

But it wasn't.

Wesker crashed into an outcropping of rocks and slid into unconsciousness. He could have sworn that he heard the voice of Dr. Marcus right before he passed out: _You think you're good enough to survive here? Prove it._ Water continued to pour over his body as his muscles slackened. When he again opened his raw, red eyes, he was staring at the bright sky overhead. He was being jerked back and forth by the water, but he was not progressing downriver. Questioningly, he looked behind him to find that his long, black jacket was caught on a log wedged between two rocks. If he moved his arms even a fraction of an inch, he might slip out of his safety net.

For now he was stable, but he was still in the middle of the river and being battered. Where was Claire? He wondered how far down she had drifted and whether or not she was in one piece. He almost caught himself being concerned, but he knew that she couldn't die. Worry was useless. A much larger concern was whether or not his hard drive had survived. He began carefully reaching for the log above his head. He could feel his jacket tearing with each movement.

"WESKER!" He turned his head and there was Claire. She looked as horrible as she must have felt with her matted hair and torn clothing. Blood was running from her head, elbows, and hands. Her solid amber eyes were wild with panic as she watched his jacket continue to rip. Any moment he was going to be swept further away. Wesker counted on her to wait as he freed himself, for he never depended on anyone, and she would be foolish to come after him; little could he fathom the depth of Claire's protective nature. The energy of the moment had given her body over to her viral side. She did not see the jagged rocks or the water. Her eyes, ears, and nose honed in only on what her instincts told her to save.

Wesker watched in muted shock as Claire neatly leapt onto a large rock and remained balanced against the force of nature. She crouched and ran along its length with incredible speed before propelling herself onto the next solid surface. She was getting closer and finally landed, albeit shakily, on one of the rocks keeping the log in place. Her amber eyes swirled like liquid gold as she extended a hand toward Wesker. He wrapped his fingers around hers as she began pulling and the jacket completely tore. Her strength was incredible, and she nearly lifted him from the rapids with one hand. Wesker was almost clear of the water and wrapped his free hand around one of the rocks for additional leverage. Claire smiled reassuringly, but her smile quickly slipped.

A surge of water smashed across the rock and pushed her forward. She tried to shift her feet for balance, but it was too late. She tumbled headfirst down over the rock, and the only thing that kept her from breaking her face was a strong arm encircling her waist. She slid under the waves, but someone went with her. She opened her eyes in the watery world surrounding her and found herself face-to-face with Wesker. Her red hair swam about their injured upper bodies as she struggled to hold her breath. Wesker was holding onto her with one arm, and the other extended up, out of the water where it was latched onto a rock.

He was no longer breathing, having forced his body to surrender the pointless notion, and he began pulling them out of the water. Claire clung to his front with both of her hands and frantically waited for air. They were both grappling and struggling to beat the current, and finally Claire felt her feet hit something solid. She pushed herself above the water and grabbed Wesker's hand to pull him along. They stumbled through the shallows toward the embankment and were relieved to feel solid earth beneath their feet.

Wesker tried to suck in air but found his lungs filled with water. He immediately doubled over on the ground and violently hacked until every last drop had been wrung from him. He breathed heavily with his blond hair soaking wet and clinging to his forehead and neck. His clothing was ripped in numerous places, and he painfully sat up to rip free a rock that had embedded itself in his palm. Blood ran heavily but shortly slowed and ceased. Claire had never seen him looking so battled.

She was leaning against a tree and shaking from the sudden weakening of her body. Like before, she found herself quickly losing adrenaline, but she was hardly thinking of herself. She watched Wesker with concern, and her softly pleading eyes begged him to recover quickly. He lifted himself from the ground and stared at her. The amber in her eyes was already fading into blue once again, but her slightly feral look persisted. She seemed oblivious that her one hand was dripping blood onto the grass. Her wounds were not healing as fast as his.

"Are you feeling alright, Claire?" Wesker questioned as he walked toward her.

"I can't believe that you did that, you asshole," Claire muttered while nodding. She had the overwhelming urge to close her eyes and take a nap. A hand warmly touched her cheek, checking her body for wounds. She didn't care. "That's the third time you've scared the crap out of me," she continued. "You've got to stop doing that." Wesker turned over her palm and found that the wound had now closed, but she was still fatigued.

"I'll keep that in mind," Wesker dryly mocked as he released her hand. Suddenly Claire's arms were around his neck in an embrace. He stiffened before relaxing and gently moving her into the cover of the trees with his arms around her. The helicopter was making rounds overhead. It was probably chasing the remnants of his jacket. "Claire?" Wesker questioned as her hold on him loosened. Her arms were still around his neck as he eased her against another tree. Emotions fueled and drained her powers to an incredible extent. It was a rather remarkable development.

Her head rested gently against his shoulder and Wesker tightened his hold on her to keep her upright. They weren't going anywhere fast with her like this, and so he remained holding her while her system reestablished equilibrium. Her eyelids began sliding shut and Wesker gave her body a jerk.

"This is no time to sleep," he told her. "We've got to move before they comb the area." Claire didn't respond. "Claire!" Wesker insisted with another rough squeeze to her body. Claire's eyes shot open and she slowly placed most of her weight onto her own legs.

"I know. Just give me a moment. I'll be fine in a little bit," she assured. She could feel her system recollecting itself. "I guess I really pushed myself, but I was afraid you'd get pulled under again."

"I wouldn't have died," Wesker stated.

"It didn't matter. I saw you and my mind just switched gears." Her arms detached themselves from his neck and she stepped back. Her eyes were almost completely alert again. "Okay," she said. "Let's go, but don't go too fast." Wesker nodded and began leading them through the forest at a jog. Claire's body had difficulty keeping up with him at first, but then they were both smoothly running at an incredible pace with foliage whisking by their faces in a blur. Wesker kept them parallel to the road and eventually, after several hours, they emerged at a small town.

"Wait here," Wesker instructed. Claire sat on a stump amid the trees, watching Wesker sneak around the corner of a house. Within fifteen minutes he had returned with a car—an older truck with a large dent in the side. Claire smiled at the sight of Wesker behind the wheel of such a vehicle but wordlessly slipped inside next to him. They were off, into the distance, and it was an entire day before they stopped moving. The truck was ditched at the closest city and they rented a much more suitable (and very black) car. After their twenty-four hour driving marathon, they finally stopped at a hotel.

"Thank god!" Claire said to no one in particular as she stepped out of the car and stretched her muscles. She slammed her door shut and moved toward their room. She had been waiting all day for a shower, as she was caked with river dirt. She stepped out of her boots and padded across the carpeted floor for the bathroom, but a hand grabbed hers, stopping her mid-stride.

"Hmm?" she questioned as Wesker's fingers encased her wrist. She was gently turned and pulled backwards against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her there, just staring curiously at her with relaxed features. He was still incredibly messy, like her, Claire mused. His hand traveled lower on her back and Claire's nerves instantly flared to life. She gazed at his gleaming eyes and breathed deeply. He was giving off that strange scent again. Claire was mildly unnerved to realize that it had a powerful affect on her system. She wanted to bury herself in that scent and never come out. Wesker smirked.

"Dear heart, I must ask you something."


	19. Chapter 19: Ties that Bind

Here is the next installment that adds more dimensions to the relationship. I send a huge thank you out to my reviewers!

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Chapter 48: Ties that Bind

"What?" Claire asked. Wesker examined her watchful features, the slightly concerned curve of her lips, and the way her body leaned into his. She continued to surprise him, and her latest foray in risking her safety for him was but one example. He trailed his hand along her back, right where her spine met the top of her pants. It really had been a long time, but he'd never thought twice about it until now. He'd been too isolated and immersed in his plans to take overly pressing interest, but now he smirked privately to himself. The attachment issue had obviously brought other thoughts to mind now that he had grown used to enjoying Claire's companionship, and it wasn't unprofessional now that she wasn't his hostage.

He used his free hand to massage the back of her neck. He would never have guessed that the captive he had taken so long ago would hold his interest for any extended period of time. He had barely given her a second glance at first.

"Wesker…" Claire said, reminding him that he had set her up for a question.

"Dear heart, would staying with me really be so terrible after everything that has happened?" Claire swallowed. The scent that he was giving off was clouding her brain.

"Maybe," Claire frowned without conviction.

"You'd be comfortable," Wesker assured.

"Conflicted."

"Given power."

"Whatever."

"In a position to have a family without fear." Claire stared intently at him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Wesker smirked. "Claire, really, your hesitancy is insulting. I hardly think that it would be an undesirable situation given your recent behavior. Would it be so unbearable to switch sides?"

"Yes and no…" Wesker pressed his lips against hers and pulled her as close as possible. Claire lost herself in his touch, amazed by her own willingness. Suddenly she understood exactly why Wesker's scent changed. She wondered if he could smell it on her too. She kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his neck. No one had kissed her but him since…since Steve. Mental pain sliced her, but her lips didn't stop moving. She wanted Wesker. He wasn't just the man that had callously used Steve's death to his advantage. He was human, as he was proving at the current moment.

Wesker stepped back and removed his shirt, gloves, and belt. Claire admired his sculpted body and slowly reached for her own clothing. Wesker grabbed her hands to stop their movements. He really did like being in control.

"Allow me," he told her. Claire shuddered as he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, followed by her pants and underclothing. Her eyes trailed upward to meet his. The red gleamed in the semi-darkness of the room and Wesker tenderly stroked her cheeks. Little did Claire know, but her eyes were erupting in amber under his ministrations. He maneuvered her to the bed while Claire asked for forgiveness from every person that she had ever known, including Chris and Steve.

Wesker was gentle with her, and Claire appreciated it. She lost herself in his presence and let him do with her as he pleased. Her own body responded willingly and she wrapped arms about his neck and buried her face there. She wanted nothing to do with him and everything to do with him. Neither of them spoke; there was nothing to say, and certainly no need for sweet nothings. This was not romantic, but something else entirely. It was a connection, pure and simple. They both fully immersed themselves in the experience.

Afterwards, when Claire lay in the bed, dozing with Wesker's arms around her, she refused to think about what she had done. She only wanted to rest in the security and sureness of his embrace. Their intimacy fastened the lock around her feelings for him, but she knew that the meaning of this would be different on his end. Wesker did not give of himself like she did. Tomorrow, when she woke up, the real world would be waiting for her, and that was a shame.

She pulled Wesker's arms more tightly about her and closed her eyes. He was resting his face against her hair, but he remained alert while she slipped into sleep. He never held them unless he was luring them into false security, but this was different; he was satisfied, and practically holding onto her like she might regret her decision and up and leave at any second once he decided to sleep. Part of him gloried in the ability to throw this at Chris, but he knew that he couldn't do that. Between breaking Chris's spirit and retaining Claire, he'd opt for the latter. He wouldn't care if Chris never found out so long as his new partner remained his. She was far too powerful to ever let go for safety reasons let alone for his personal ones. If she chose to leave, he might very well be forced to kill her to insure his own security.

He moved his face closer to the soft skin right below her ear. What a waste to rid himself of something so rare and precious. Wesker would regret ending her existence for a multitude of reasons. His nose brushed her earlobe and Claire gentle sighed and shifted closer to him. He wondered if she was capable of reproducing, or if either of them were. He did not want a family. He did not need a family, and he certainly didn't need to produce powerful offspring that might challenge him one day as his equal or better. Still, the concept was an interesting one, even if it somewhat repulsed him. If anything unintentional did result from his relations with Claire, it would certainly need to be kept secret, but he wasn't overly concerned. None of the infected ever retained reproductive abilities, even the more human ones.

"Chris…" Claire muttered in her sleep, brow furrowed. Wesker moved his lips to her ears and breathed gently against them.

"Stay, dear heart." Claire quieted down and again relaxed. _Indeed, dear heart, stay._

***************

"Where are we going?" Claire asked as they boarded a private jet. It was one of the few comments that she had made today, and she was avoiding mentioning anything concerning their sexual exchange.

"We're moving to a new lab," Wesker informed her. He had expected her to brood for part of the day, but he was pleased that she did not seem embarrassed or regretful over her actions, only thoughtful. "Unfortunately I can not avoid the pretense of being loyal to my employers," he stated as he turned toward her, "So you will need to bear through a meeting."

Claire was dressed head-to-toe in black again, like him, but in a tastefully feminine fashion. He would be seen with her, and that meant that she affected his image; so he had chosen her clothing for this trip. Plus, she needed to look intimidating given his employers' inevitable notice of her. He had explained this, and Claire had taken it for what it was. Life was a hazardous thing for the infected amid corporations.

"Watch yourself, Miss Redfield," he warned her as they entered an open room on the jet. _As if I need reminded_, Claire thought. Behind her sunglasses, she scanned the other people present. Four men and two women, all sharply dressed, although the one lady was rather smutty looking with her low-cut top. Claire sat directly beside Wesker in the circle of chairs that all faced inward for conversational purposes. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap as eyebrows were raised in her direction.

_These are your enemies, Claire! What the hell are you doing here?_ She glanced at Wesker without moving her head. She was coming to appreciate how useful sunglasses could be in these situations. Maybe Wesker was testing her newfound inclination to stick by him. Maybe he this was the final test after having surrendered herself to him. She inwardly sighed. She was not defeated, but she had no idea why she was still with him. No—scratch that—she did, but…Claire turned her attention back to the group. This was no time to let her mind wander. She could perhaps glean useful information for anti-Umbrella from this, but something about that notion felt wrong…she'd be betraying Wesker's trust if she did that.

_He doesn't trust you_! Well, not entirely, but look where she was now. He had opened up that cautious part of himself that he would allow, and to betray that seemed to Claire like it could forever shut him away from normal human relationships. Her dilemma was far more complicated than she had previously thought. She did not want to lose what little headway she had made with him. She wanted his confidence.

"Good of you to join us, Mr. Wesker," one of the men coldly greeted with his eyes on Claire. His narrow face reminded Claire of a rat, and she instantly disliked his silky voice. "We were unaware that you were bringing company."

"A necessity given the short notice of this meeting," Wesker returned, equally cold. "Shall we continue?" Claire admired how controlled and smooth he was in this environment. Compared to the others, he stood out like the alpha male. He was clearly subordinate to the man directing the meeting, but everyone respected and skirted around openly challenging him. For her part, Claire placed her elbow on her armrest and casually rested her chin against it. Wesker approvingly noted her cool, confident demeanor. She had a natural knack for this sort of game.

"Dr. Anthony," one of the men rudely interrupted another. "We cannot openly sell to those people without drawing suspicion. What we need is an unknown and discreet middleman to barter for us."

"I believe Mr. Wesker would be appropriate for such a task, don't you think?" the smuttier woman suggested. Her eyes lingered on Wesker's neutral expression, and Claire decided that she really, _really_, didn't like Miss. Let-me-lean-forward-a-little-more. Behind her dark glasses, Claire willed the woman to fall out of her seat right onto her floozy ass. Her dark, pupils turned to Claire for a moment, and both women seemed to be sizing each other up. Claire knew that she was less attractive than this finely dressed elite, but she would bet anything that her right hook was better.

"I'm afraid that I'm being used for other business, unless the company has other plans," Wesker stated. "Get one of Lorenzo's men to handle it. Surely the issue doesn't involve tact beyond their abilities."

"Perhaps," the senior of the group allowed. He kept speaking directly after Wesker, and forcefully, as if to emphasize that _he_ was the one in charge. "I suppose your business has nothing to do with Africa?" Wesker's eyes shot to the man threateningly, but only Claire was aware of his change in mood.

"I've no business there," Wesker dismissed. Claire watched one of his fingers gently tapping the armrest and noted the slight tightness in his jaw—a clear indicator that he was annoyed. Wesker did not know how this man had gotten wind of his intentions to travel to Africa. It was most likely only an attempt to bait him into saying something incriminating, but Wesker ridiculed the man's efforts. The only possible grounds for suspicion would be that there were several very powerful bio-companies stationed on that continent. Let them blindly fish. Wesker would pretend to be in the United States, where they wanted him, but they hardly ever knew where he actually was.

_Africa?_ Claire turned the word over in her mind. He had mentioned traveling somewhere for a new project, but she couldn't tell which way the truth might lean. The remainder of the meeting passed uneventfully until they landed and departed the less-than-desirable company. Claire had basically learned nothing, but names and places were stored away in her memory for future use. Retaining information on Brazil had certainly come in handy.

Wesker stood outside the airport, waiting for the car that he had arranged to pick them up, and Claire kept close to him. He smirked at her as the car pulled up, and he placed a gentle hand on her lower back to guide her forward. Whatever test had just happened, Claire intuitively knew that she had passed it.


	20. Chapter 20: I Think I Love You

Chapter 49: I Love You

Wesker was sitting at a computer desk, checking his hard drive's recovery. Everything was intact, much to his relief. Damage would have set him back, and he couldn't afford that right now. He leaned back in his chair and listened to gunshots in the distance. Claire was practicing again. Since they'd arrived yesterday, she'd been busy trying her hand at the numerous, unfamiliar weapons stockpiled in the security cabinet. He encouraged her to learn her way around various guns for the obvious utility of the knowledge.

He was almost certain that she would stay with him now, and it offered some peaceful reassurance as he dealt with the intensity of what was coming. His plans needed to go perfectly from here on out. At least Claire would be there and he wouldn't need to keep an eye on her. She could handle herself well enough, and he reflected on how he would completely replace his more skilled operatives with her. Goodbye Ada. Claire would execute her missions beautifully and then come home and ask him how his day was. Wesker found a depth of calm in the idea that little else provided.

Suddenly his phone rang and he curtly informed the caller that he would be in the country within several weeks. His allies had better have met his requirements. He was assured that they had, but the United States government was nosing around. That suited Wesker perfectly. If they sent special ops to handle what he was about to unleash, then he'd be able to test his latest creations against trained individuals rather than civilians. It would be like sending Stars to their death all over again.

He ended the call as the door behind him opened. He had been waiting for her to come back, and he listened to her footfalls as he worked. She walked up behind him and set a cup of hot tea beside his computer. Wesker casually noted it and continued typing.

"So what's in Africa?" Claire asked. Wesker did not show his surprise but glanced at her. "Your jaw line clenched when that guy mentioned it." Wesker had to admire her observational skills.

"Nothing is there yet, but there will be," he answered. He was still cryptic around her, for he had no idea how she would react to seeing an outbreak caused by his hands. He needed to ease her into the realization, and he was counting on her strong sense of loyalty to pull her though the confrontation. Little did he know, but Claire already suspected that he might be running an African testing site after what she had seen in Russia. It saddened and disappointed her, and she knew that the time was coming when they would need to discuss the issue. Their future was on the line.

"Wesker, would you object to me calling you Albert?" she asked.

"I should think that we're familiar enough for Albert," Wesker sarcastically remarked with a smirk. She was making cleaning the computer system much more enjoyable.

"What about Alby?"

"Now you're crossing the line." Claire had the urge to run her fingers through his hair, but she controlled herself.

"You've been working for six straight hours," she pointed out.

"And?" Wesker asked with a sharp jab at the keyboard. Claire stared at the side of his face and felt her body beginning to warm. She had been a nonstop thinking machine since their first time together, especially concerning what was to come of it, for she knew that she couldn't stay with him indefinitely. Rather than make her want him less, the knowledge made her want him more. She didn't know how long they had before the real world would force them apart.

Wesker felt her hair brush the side of his face as she loosened her ponytail and lowered her mouth to his neck. She planted a soft kiss beneath his jaw and then another further up, on his cheek. His fingers continued to type as if she had done nothing, which in turn ruined Claire's mood. She knew that she wasn't the most seductive person. Actually, she had no experience in that area whatsoever, but she had been hoping for some kind of reaction. With an inward pang of indignation, she spun to leave, but Wesker quickly swiveled in his chair and wrapped arms around her waist, pulling her back onto his lap.

His mouth was at her left ear where he kissed her, and Claire smiled to herself as his hands began to undo her shirt's buttons.

"Six hours is nothing, dear heart," he told her. "I'm used to working much longer marathons when there aren't any distractions." Claire huffed good-naturedly.

"So I'm a distraction, am I?"

"Undeniably." What the hell? There was no pressing work at the time. His schemes were in motion and could go without monitoring for a while, for, he had never told Claire, but most of his work involved watching over what he had already placed in motion rather than formulating new activities. Patience and a bird's eye view were his main assets. Claire attempted to stand, but he wrapped his arms around her and prevented it.

"You have power issues," Claire commented. "You know that, right?"

"I've been told on several occasions by bolder fools," he chuckled. He had never verbally parried with anyone he'd slept with before, but he hadn't been with any of them for more than sexual gratification or manipulation either. Claire could smell his hormones racing as he released her and they moved to the small room that they shared. There were no windows and Wesker left the lights off. The only illumination came from the cracked door, and it revealed their rocking bodies in thin slivers of light.

Claire wrapped her legs around him and decided that she could definitely get used to this, but it wasn't to last. It made her grip him tightly and stay as close to him as possible. She had never wanted to remain with someone with such intensity before, and it was hardly only the physical that made her feel that way. She wanted to wake up and find Wesker sitting at his computer, knowing that he'd let her listen in on his conferences and talk with her behind his employers' backs. Their lovemaking peaked, slowed, and ended, leaving Claire drained but pleased. Wesker lay on the bed and Claire sat up to dangle her legs over the edge.

"Albert…" she distantly said, and Wesker knew that something was coming that would displease him. He laid a hand on her thigh to keep her thoughts grounded. She smiled weakly at him. "You know that we can't just keep going on like this."

"And why not, Claire?" Wesker questioned. "That's what we've been doing."

"But without context," Claire emphasized. "I won't work for you." Wesker's mood darkened and Claire could almost feel the recent warmth vanish into thin air. They remained silent for some time as Wesker carefully weighed his next words. He knew that killing her would be the best option if she took her conclusions any further…

"Not working for me says nothing about staying," he decided. Maybe she wouldn't be his best worker—yet—but that didn't mean that she couldn't remain with him. He would accept that.

"I can't have you and my friends," Claire sighed. "I want both, but I've been hopelessly deluding myself about that. I thought that maybe there would be a way…" Her eyes were watering. "Albert, I…this is very hard for me." Wesker pulled her back onto the bed with him and kissed her in an attempt to keep her from continuing. Chris and company would need to die—that was for certain, but he couldn't keep devoting so much time to capturing Claire when a larger goal was looming closer. And, he realized, it wasn't only Chris standing in his way. It was the entire notion of what he aimed to accomplish that repelled Claire, and he couldn't change that. The only other option was to find a way to let her have both, and, as she had pointed out, that was quite impossible.

Claire wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. Wesker knew that she was on the verge of crying. He had certainly upset her life, he thought. She was in a complete moral and emotional dilemma, but it proved that he retained a clear advantage. Claire sighed and dried her eyes on his exposed skin as a loud ringing interrupted their intimacy. Wesker considered ignoring it, and then reprimanded himself. Ignore an important call for a woman? He couldn't believe that the idea had even crossed his mind. He stood and retrieved his phone from his discarded pants.

Claire was standing and redressing as he talked.

"If you say so," Wesker barked at someone. "Tell them that I'll be there." His superiors were trying his patience with their recent insistence that he be more visible. It was a sign of their weakness—their uncertainty regarding him. He slammed the phone shut and found Claire fully dressed and calmly combing her hair. The relaxation of her pose and the softness of her face spoke volumes.

"You've made a decision," Wesker guessed. Claire had never looked more apologetic.

"Would you let me go, if I chose to leave?" Wesker gripped his phone in frustration and had to pocket it to avoid breaking the casing.

"You're making a foolish decision," he roughly stated. "What can they offer you that I can't?"

"You know it's not about what is offered."

"Damn your sentiments," Wesker said, and it was as close to bitterness as Claire had ever heard him. It was there, in his tone, even if his face was flat.

"Will you let me go?" Claire pressed. She wondered if he could bring himself to kill her. Maybe she wouldn't walk away from this.

"You'll realize what a mistake this is," Wesker continued.

"Maybe. Albert, will…"

"Dear heart, I have an important meeting to attend and cannot deal with this right now. Any decision I give would be liable to change." Wesker dressed and approached her. If only that meeting hadn't been called, but he was so close to shedding their minimal control over him that he did not want to fumble his smooth game plan now. And he needed time to think about this new development. Disposing of Claire…maybe he could let her go and see what came of it. Maybe he could convince her to stay…maybe patience would win out again. He looked into her blue eyes and didn't want to kill her, even if it was pragmatic.

"Dear heart, don't go anywhere while I'm gone," he stated as he held her face. He couldn't take her to this meeting and risk her learning things of importance when she was on the verge of leaving. She refused to meet his eyes—a bad sign. "Claire," he demanded and moved closer to her. "Don't make this decision now. We need to talk about this." _Yes_, Claire thought, _because you could twist my decision around given time_. He lowered his mouth and kissed her, taking heart in Claire's passionate returned of the gesture. She ran a hand through his hair.

"Thank you, Albert." She elaborated no further as Wesker stepped away and put on his sunglasses.

"I'll be back soon," he told her. Claire nodded in understanding as Wesker left the room. She waited five seconds before shooting into the hallway after him to watch his retreating form.

"Albert!" she called. He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. Her eyes, so open and honest sought his beyond the shades. "I…I think I love you." He stared at her and his eyes and mouth softened. Those were words that he'd never heard directed toward him with any conviction since childhood. He wordlessly continued walking and found himself dwelling only on Claire instead of his mission. He entered the elevator and spun to press the button for his floor. Claire was still in the hallway, watching him. A tear slid down her cheek and Wesker knew that she might not be there when he returned. For the first time since she'd agreed to come with him, he seriously considered that he might not be able to win this one.

Part of him wanted to quickly lock her in a holding cell until his return. Another part wanted to shoot her and be done with it. But he convinced himself that she might stay to hear him out, or, in the longer run, return to him. She couldn't pose much of a threat to him at his enemies' side so long as her feelings for him remained strong, and that, at least, was certain. Her life was spared for half-formulated reasoning and desires as the elevator doors close. Right until they sealed shut, Wesker remained riveted on Claire's morose figure. The last thing that he saw was her turning her back on him. Willpower and determination always had been what he admired about her most.

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Before the reviews come in, remember that the story is not marked complete. This isn't over, so don't get too excited.


	21. Chapter 21: Home Again

176 pages later and the story is finished. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, and it's NOT too late to review. You all know that I'm aiming to continue this once I get my hands on Resident Evil 5, but I won't make promises. That's months away. Tell me what you thought of my little trilogy, and I'll be delighted. Maybe you have some ideas about what to improve, what you liked, or questions that you'd like answered in the next possibly sequel…lol. Love to you all!!!!!

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Chapter 50: Home

Someone was pounding on the front door and Chris hurriedly threw pants on over his boxers as he half jumped, half fell out of bed. He had received a phone call two days before, and his heart leapt with excitement. _Claire_. He sprinted down the stairs and whipped the door open to meet expectant blue eyes and red hair.

"Claire!" He threw his arms around her, and Claire almost laughed at his enthusiasm. "You're back!" Claire hugged him and then gently forced his arms off of her.

"Relax," she joked. "I swear I'm not about to disappear. Take it easy." Chris stepped back to examine her. She was wearing solid black and even had sunglasses tucked into her front pocket.

"Sheesh, sis," he laughed. "You almost look like…" Claire stared at him. "You know, Wesker." For a moment, he could have sworn that pain flashed through Claire's eyes, but she quickly brushed it off.

"I guess I do," she mused. Chris leaned down to look directly in her eyes.

"Hey, stupid, what's wrong?" Claire smiled and stepped inside.

"Nothing. It's just been a long several weeks," she excused herself. "I have a lot of things to tell you." She moved into the living room and flopped onto the couch.

"Yeah, and I have a ton of questions to ask too," Chris said as he sat beside her. "But first off, are you okay? With the virus and everything? You left without telling me anything. I thought—shit, Claire, I was worried that the virus might kill you while you were off on your own. You have no idea how worried I've been." Claire sighed.

"I'm okay. I…" There was no easy or subtle way to say this, and she had promised herself to be as honest as possible with him. "Chris, I died." She stared at his blank face and waited for the comment to sink in. When it did, his eyes widened in shock.

"You mean…"

"I'm infected with something similar to what Wesker has," Claire explained. "In Russia, I died, and now I'm back. I had to leave to figure out how to deal with it." She lowered her eyes. "I hope you aren't too freaked out."

"Umm…kind of…but you look okay, and you're home. That's what's important to me. I love you, sis. I've had a lot of time to get used to the idea of you being infected since you left. Really, it doesn't mean anything to me." He watched Claire's eyes water and wondered what he had said wrong. "Hey, it's alright." He wrapped arms around her.

"You don't understand," Claire inhaled. "He didn't understand. This is what he couldn't offer. Gosh, it's like there's something missing everywhere now." Chris squeezed her reassuringly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "You can tell me." Claire shook her head and eased away from his grip.

"I'm going to tell you something Chris, and you have to promise that you won't be angry. I'm putting an insane amount of trust in you by telling you this, and you can't take that lightly. Never take trust lightly." Chris looked into her eyes, and the sincere intensity there startled him. He could swear that there were gold flecks swimming in her irises, and her mouth was firm set.

"Okay. I promise."

"I went looking for the one person that could tell me what was happening to me," Claire blurted. Chris slowly turned his eyes to the floor and leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands. There was an extremely long stretch of silence that made Claire nervous, but Chris was not exploding. He simply had a dark expression.

"Did you find him?" he asked.

"Yes."

"So you're telling me that you went to the one man I hate more than anyone else for help instead of staying with me…?"

"Chris," Claire said, steady and defensively. "I'm telling you this because we have always told each other everything, and I hate keeping secrets from you. Yes, I went to Wesker, but only because I felt that I had to."

"And what happened then?" Chris angrily pressed. Claire knew that his frustrated tone meant that he was either accepting what she was saying or internally building into a bonfire.

"He explained the virus to me and showed me how to control it. Chris," she laid a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, "he actually helped me, even though that's hard for you to believe. And, if I hadn't gone, I might be in very bad shape right now. He also taught me to be careful, because people are going to be after me if I'm not cautious. You have to believe me, Chris. I'm not making this up, and I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you too, bro." Chris didn't move. He had to think about this, soak it in.

"But why would he help you, Claire?" he asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"I can't give you a complete answer to that," Claire honestly admitted. "I think that there were a lot of different reasons, but he's not very open about such things, as I'm sure you know." She paused, giving Chris's back a calculating stare as she mulled her thoughts over. "But, if you want to know my opinion…Chris, please keep calm." He turned to look at her, and she saw the confused pain in his eyes. Her heart ached. "Chris, there's some humanity left in that man. I've seen it, and I'm not saying that he's good or that I trust him, but he's not as cold as he seems."

"Claire, I can't believe that I'm hearing this. You know what he did to Stars and Raccoon City." Chris sat up straight and tightened his hands into fists. "But, Jill and I were talking, and, well, I know that you aren't as hateful toward him as I am. I just don't understand why or how, but you're home." He patted Claire's knee and she almost melted in gratitude.

"You're not going to disown me?" she tried to joke. "I know I've been keeping a lot hidden from you…"

"You're my sister," Chris assured, cutting her off. "Claire, there's a lot more to this story that I don't know, isn't there?" She nodded and Chris shook his head. "I can't believe this…I won't easily forget that you went to him of your own free will or that you're kind of defending him—hell, if I know how that's possible. God, this is maddening. Look, I'm sort of pissed about this." Claire glanced at him meaningfully. "Okay. I'm really pissed, but mostly because I don't get it. Anyway, I forgive you and just don't call him humane ever again."

"Chris," Claire said with a smile. "I'm really impressed. I half expected to be shot." Chris tried to calm his anger by forcing a laugh.

"Jill was very convincing, and maybe I can be a little hard on people. She keeps telling me that I have to work on my temper." They hugged each other again. "Just don't leave like this again, okay?"

"Agreed," Claire laughed.

"So what's with this virus thing? Did…did you get the help you needed?" In response, Claire stood and lifted Chris single-handed by the collar. "Whoa!" he gasped as she released him. "So you're like a superwoman now? Shit, my sister, wonder woman. Hey, I have something great to tell you!" And he told her about his new job and how he was being sent to Africa. Claire's face paled considerably at the idea, but she wouldn't explain why. She answered a fair number of questions concerning her new abilities and her fear of discovery and how she wasn't sure what to do anymore. Chris suggested that she find work with the government, but Claire kept her opinions on that to herself.

Overall, they spent the next few days enjoying each other's company, but Chris noticed changes in his sister. She perceived things about his mood that she hadn't before, and her eyes quickly darted to any new noise. Her movements were quick and graceful, and on the streets she sometimes paused and drew in deep breaths as if tasting the air. It was obvious that she had changed physically, but Chris also knew that something was different mentally. She sometimes adopted a distant expression that had not been as prevalent before Wesker entered her life, and sometimes she looked sad when certain subjects like betrayal, trust, or love were mentioned. Something was clearly eating at her, but Jill kept reminding him to keep his cool and allow her some privacy.

Claire never spoke about details of her experience with Wesker, although she mentioned that he liked spicy noodle bowls, which boggled Chris's mind. She kept her lips mostly sealed, Wesker never left her mind. She moved through the motions of her old life and tried not feel like something was missing, but she couldn't deny reality. She missed him. She missed him like she had never missed anyone before. She dreamed of his arms around her, and she woke up expecting to find him working nearby. She waited for his smartass comments and mocking voice to speak to her, but he was gone.

The first night she was too excited about seeing Chris again to cry, but the second night she lost control and wept, mostly because she was afraid that she might never regain what she had shared with Wesker now that she had abandoned him. What if he didn't forgive her? The thought tormented her almost as much as the thought that he might forget her. No, he wouldn't forget her, she decided. If she could only apologize to him maybe she could explain herself better.

Now she sat at the desk in her room, twiddling an envelope that had arrived for her. She had come to the full realization that she did, in fact, love Albert Wesker, at least most of her did. She sighed. The most that she could hope for was that in her parting words, he knew how much she regretted having to leave him.

"What's that?" Chris asked her as he stuck his head into her room. He was getting ready to leave for Africa, although he could not give Claire an exact location. The government was keeping the situation hush-hush.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Give me a moment and I'll be down to take you to the airport." Chris left and Claire gingerly peeled the letter open. There was no return address, only her name and apartment number printed in plain, bold letters. She looked inside to find a letter and a house key. Her heart did a somersault as she smoothed out the paper.

_Dear Heart,_

_You know what it opens, and you're always welcome._

_A.W._

Claire ran her nose over the paper. She could faintly smell him on its surface, and it brought back a need to be touched by him. She lifted the key and held it tightly in her hands. He knew. She smiled sadly. He knew. He knew. He knew. She strung the key onto the chain holding the dog tag as a reminder that she hadn't been scornfully discarded. He hadn't admitted defeat just yet—not that doing so was ever in his fashion. Maybe she'd put that key to use someday. Somewhere, in a forested valley, there was a second home waiting for her, and she gladly knew for certain that she had not seen the last of Albert Wesker.


	22. Chapter 22: Author's Thoughts

The next entry in this series is 'Reverberations', which is now posted and complete.

Also:

I completely forgot that there are 10 whole yrs between Raccoon and RE5, so I'm going back to the last two chapters and changing the dating so that it will be several months to a year before Chris is leaving for Africa.


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